


The Boy-Who-Couldn't-See: Year 2

by ahoeinplainsight



Series: Blind!Harry [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Canon, Angry Harry Potter, BAMF Harry Potter, Blind Harry Potter, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Canon Compliant, Canonical Child Abuse, Confused Harry, Confused Harry Potter, Disabled Character, Disabled Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy Being an Asshole, Harry Being Harry, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Harry Potter Being an Idiot, Harry Potter Has a Crush, Harry Potter Has a Saving People Thing, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, Harry Potter is So Done, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Harry Potter-centric, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione Granger is So Done, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Not A Fix-It, Oblivious Harry, Oblivious Harry Potter, Oblivious Ron Weasley, POV Harry Potter, POV Third Person Limited, Powerful Harry, Protective Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley Being an Idiot, Ron Weasley is Our King, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Severus Snape Bashing, Severus Snape Being a Bastard, Smart Harry, Smart Harry Potter, Supportive Ron Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 63,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahoeinplainsight/pseuds/ahoeinplainsight
Summary: Harry survived his first year but, as always, it's only downhill from there.// also on wattpad under the same username and title :)
Relationships: Angelina Johnson & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood, but it's technically still just a crush
Series: Blind!Harry [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802449
Comments: 237
Kudos: 390





	1. The Worst Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to year 2! every chapter will follow each chapter of the actual book and a lot will copy and pasted (like... a lot. that's your warning)  
> enjoy!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: i reference past abuse quite a bit in this chapter 
> 
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Not for the first time, Harry sits across from his uncle and listens with a blank face as he yells about Hedwig.

“Third time this week!” he yells and Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes. “If you can't control that owl, it'll have to go!”

Harry sighs, “She's bored. She's used to flying around outside. If I could just let her out at night —”

“Do I look stupid?” Uncle Vernon snarls. “I know what'll happen if that owl's let out.”

“Actually, you  _ do  _ look  —”

Thankfully, Harry’s idiotic words are drowned out by the sound of Dudley letting out a long, loud belch. Harry’s lip curls in disgust.

“I want more bacon,” Dudley demands.

“There's more in the frying pan, sweetums,” Aunt Petunia says. “We must build you up while we've got the chance. I don't like the sound of that school food…”

“Nonsense, Petunia, I never went hungry when I was at Smeltings,” Uncle Vernon says. “Dudley gets enough, don't you, son?”

Harry  _ does  _ roll his eyes this time.

“Pass the frying pan,” Dudley says in his direction.

Harry frowns, saying, “You've forgotten the magic word.”

And just that one word makes everything explode. Dudley gasps and falls to the floor, Aunt Petunia screams, and Uncle Vernon jumps up so quickly that his chair falls backwards.

“I meant please!” Harry quickly says. “Not —”

“WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU,” Uncle Vernon interrupts him, his spit hitting Harry in the face, “ABOUT SAYING THE ‘M’ WORD IN OUR HOUSE?”

“I didn’t mean —”

“HOW DARE YOU THREATEN DUDLEY!” Uncle Vernon’s fist collides with the table.

“I  _ wasn’t  _ —”

“I WARNED YOU! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTION OF YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!”

Harry sighs quietly, “Okay. All right.”

The chaos dies down and Harry shakes his head slightly. This fight, of course, can be prevented from happening again, but Uncle Vernon, as soon as Harry arrived back at the house, had locked all of his possessions away in his old cupboard and padlocked Hedwig’s cage shut. Yes, Harry has summer homework, and yes, he needs to practice for Quidditch, and yes, he wants to talk to his friends, but none of that matters to Uncle Vernon. Uncle Vernon couldn’t care less, actually. So, Harry is going to go back to school with none of his work done and be complete rubbish at Quidditch and his friends are going to be angry with him for not talking to him. Though, they haven’t been sending  _ him  _ letters so perhaps he can be angry with them as well. 

This last fact is the most concerning of them all, really, besides Hedwig not being able to stretch her wings or hunt for food. Harry is out of owl treats and he never bothered to buy owl food because owls feed themselves, so he has to sneak some of his own dinner upstairs to feed her so she doesn’t drop dead while he sleeps. 

Second to that, though, is the fact that Ron and Hermione haven’t sent Harry one letter. And he really expected one today! It  _ is  _ his birthday, after all. He’s twelve now; it’s officially been five years since Harry completely lost his vision. That had been a fun day, July 31, 1987. Of course, his vision couldn’t have gone on a different day, no, it had to happen on his birthday. Harry went to bed the night before his seventh birthday able to see light changes and shadows, though he wasn’t able to read properly, and woke up on that fateful Friday unable to see what he could the day before. He had completely refused to emerge from his cupboard and had earned three days without food but he had been freaking out too much to care at the time.

Now, five years later, Harry is as efficient as one can be while blind. It’s easier in the house because he’s navigated it so often that he can make his way around easily — unless Dudley decides to move something into a path that’s usually empty just to see Harry trip and fall. It had taken him a minute to learn how to navigate around his room upstairs but after finding the wardrobe, his desk, his bed, and bedside table, he can proudly say he hasn’t stubbed his toe since Hogwarts. He imagines Ron laughing at that in the back of his mind and a frown tugs at his lips. He doesn’t want to think about his friends and yet, Ron always manages to creep up at the worst of times.

“Now, as we all know, today is a very important day,” Uncle Vernon says.

And not because of Harry’s birthday, no, never because of his birthday. They’ve even stopped giving him coat hangers as presents — which, if he’s honest, he’s sad about because he used to deconstruct the hangers and bend them into different shapes to entertain himself when he got bored of his broken army men. Without his books to read, Harry doesn’t really have much to do while he lays in bed at night, attempting to sleep. He says attempting because ever since the Quirrell thing — and finding out magic can produce images in his mind, which is  _ crazy  _ — he’s been having dreams starring bright green light, screaming, and laughing. He usually spends the night trying  _ not  _ to fall asleep and instead imagining just what his parents and their friends look like. The photo album Hagrid gave him is locked up in his trunk but Madam Pomfrey had been nice enough to not only tell him stories about his parents and their friends but also try to describe what they looked like. She made the mistake of telling him he looks exactly like his father and now all Harry can imagine is his six-year-old self with a deep voice calling him ‘son’. It’s quite weird.

“This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career,” Uncle Vernon goes on.

Harry rolls his eyes, angling his head down so they don’t see it. Uncle Vernon has been talking nonstop about this dinner party for two weeks. A rich builder and his wife are coming to dinner and Uncle Vernon has been hoping for a deal. Harry wants nothing more than to mess the entire evening up by running rampant and pretending to be insane but seeing as he doesn’t have access to his wand, he decides he shouldn’t. It’s one thing to run around claiming to be a wizard and another to actually have a stick to point at things with and say words like  _ hokey pokey  _ and  _ wiggly jiggly  _ to scare the Dursleys and make the builder and his wife not want to take the deal. It just wouldn’t have the same effect without his wand.

“I think we should run through the schedule one more time,” Uncle Vernon says and Harry thinks that they definitely shouldn’t. “We should all be in position at eight o'clock. Petunia, you will be — ?”

“In the lounge,” Aunt Petunia says, “waiting to welcome them graciously to our home.”

“Good, good. And Dudley?”

“I'll be waiting to open the door. May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

Harry presses his lips together.

"They'll love him!" Aunt Petunia cries.

“Excellent, Dudley," Uncle Vernon says before directing his words at Harry. “And you?”

This is Harry’s favorite part. He raises his head up from where it had been pointed at his plate and says tonelessly, “I'll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I'm not there.”

"Exactly," Uncle Vernon spits. Harry, no matter how many times he has to say it, will never tire of it. It’s not funny, it absolutely isn’t, but also it’s hilarious and Harry, who does that exact thing on the daily, loves it. Ron and Hermione, he can imagine, would decidedly  _ not  _ think it’s as funny as him and would probably be horrified to find out that he’s expected to do that at home, but Harry has always had a rather weird sense of humor. He blames the trauma. “I will lead them into the lounge, introduce you, Petunia, and pour them drinks. At eight fifteen —”

“I'll announce dinner,” Aunt Petunia cuts in.

“And, Dudley, you'll say —”

“May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?” 

“My perfect little gentleman!” Aunt Petunia sniffles and Harry desperately wills away his laughter.

“And you?” Uncle Vernon’s voice turns icy, meaning he’s speaking to Harry.

“I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there,” Harry says, his voice slightly strained as he tries to hold back laughter.

“Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?”

“Vernon tells me you're a wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason… Do tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason…”

“Perfect… Dudley?”

“How about — 'We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you.’”

Aunt Petunia bursts into tears and Harry ducks his head, his shoulders shaking as he laughs silently.

“And you, boy?”

Harry fights to keep a straight face as he responds, “I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there.”

“Too right, you will,” Uncle Vernon says, completely oblivious to Harry’s laughing fit. “The Masons don't know anything about you and it's going to stay that way. When dinner's over, you take Mrs. Mason back to the lounge for coffee, Petunia, and I'll bring the subject around to drills. With any luck, I'll have the deal signed and sealed before the news at ten. We’ll be shopping for a vacation home in Majorca this time tomorrow.

“Right — I'm off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Dudley and me. And you,” icy voice — he’s talking to Harry. “You stay out of your aunt's way while she's cleaning.”

Harry heads out back, a smile on his face that falls naturally as his mid reverts back to thinking sad thoughts. He sits on the garden bench and slumps down, putting his elbows on his knees and placing his face on his knuckles, his cheeks scrunching up thanks to this. 

No cards, no presents, nothing. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was all a dream, that he finally went insane from staying in his cupboard too long without food or water or bathroom privileges. The using the bathroom in the corner of his cupboard would’ve surely done him in — he’s never done something more dehumanizing than that. But he knows better. At least, he hopes so. Hedwig is all the proof he needs, really. Before meeting Hagrid, Harry had never heard of keeping owls as pets and he’s not even sure it’s  _ legal  _ to do that so just having her next to his bed and squawking indignantly at him for not being able to leave her cage is proof alone that the year hadn’t been a dream. But there’s also the fact of Hermione and Ron not sending him anything. He can  _ maybe  _ come up with a few reasons for Hermione not to send letters but Ron — Ron had told him he’d be sending a letter to ask him to come over! Ron had  _ promised  _ to write to him and not once has he gotten a letter from the boy.

Harry’s heart clenches just as it always does when he thinks about Ron forgetting about him and now, with nothing better to do, he lets his mind wonder  _ why  _ he’s more torn up about Ron not sending letters than he is about Hermione. But this wondering doesn’t last long. He only barely begins to think about how amazing Ron’s voice is when —

“I know what day it is.”

Harry blinks, turning his head in the direction of Dudley, “What?”

“I know what day it is,” Dudley repeats.

“Well done,” Harry says dryly. “So you’ve finally learned the days of the week.”

“Today's your birthday,” Dudley ignores his comment. “How come you haven't got any cards? Haven't you even got friends at that freak place?”

“Better not let your mum hear you talking about my school,” Harry says instead of responding to that.

“Why're you staring at the hedge?”

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Very good question, Duddikins. I thought maybe if I stared hard enough, I might actually be able to see it. Did you know I can use spells to give me vision?”

This is a lie, of course. Maybe. Magic  _ is  _ pretty crazy sometimes but as far as Harry knows, this is false. Dudley, however, doesn’t know this and immediately begins to stammer and try to tell Harry he can’t use magic. 

Harry grins madly and stands up, “Jiggery pokery. Hocus pocus squiggly wiggly —”

“MUUUUUUM! MUUUUM! He’s doing you know what!”

Harry realizes very quickly that he needs to stop doing that. As he ducks under the frying pain aimed under his head and then begins a long list of chores that definitely don’t need doing, he thinks that he should probably start thinking before he acts. It may be fun to mess around with Dudley but it’s not worth it if this is going to happen every time. Harry has never met somebody more impatient than himself and doing chores frustrates him to no end because there’s always  _ so many  _ and he has a hard time not rushing through them. He learned the hard way a long time ago that the punishment for not doing his chores properly is not something he wants to endure. 

He wonders what all those people that thought he was so cool would say now as he spreads manure on the flower beds, his back aching and sweat running down his face and soaking his too large t-shirt. Nothing good, he thinks.

At seven-thirty, he gets called inside and handed a plate of two pieces of bread and a clump of cheese. A king’s dinner.

The moment he finishes, the plate is whisked away and he shoves out of the kitchen. He heads toward the stairs and completely ignores Uncle Vernon’s warning of, “Remember, boy — one sound —” after the doorbell rings.

He enters his bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. Just as he goes to flop onto his bed, a voice he’s never heard before begins speaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	2. Dobby's Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i need to put any trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

“Harry Potter!” the high-pitched voice says and Harry hopes it won’t carry downstairs and reach his relatives.    


He manages not to scream, his hand flying up to cover his mouth.

“So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir… Such an honor it is…”

“May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?” Harry hears Dudley say downstairs.

Harry’s hand falls to his side, “Who are you? How did you get in my room? Are you a person?”

That last question seems slightly rude but considering the fact that this thing is in his room and is speaking in the third person, he thinks it’s only right to ask.

“Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf.”

Harry blinks, “House-elf. Right. Well, not to be rude or anything, Dobby, but this really isn’t the best time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom.”

He hears Aunt Petunia’s high, false laugh and grimaces. The elf doesn’t respond and Harry quickly begins speaking again, “Not that I’m not pleased to meet you but — er — is there any particular reason you’re here?”

The brief thought of  _ this might be a serial killer pretending to be a magical creature to gain my trust  _ crosses his mind and he takes a step away from where he assumes the elf is standing. You can never be too careful.

“Oh, yes, sir,” Dobby says. “Dobby has come to tell you, sir… it is difficult, sir… Dobby wonders where to begin…”

“Sit down?” Harry suggests, gesturing to his bed as he drops into his desk chair. His elbow knocks into Hedwig’s cage and she wakes with a start, flapping her wings a few times before settling down when she realizes what just happened and hooting a soft apology. Before Harry can tell her it’s okay, though, the house-elf bursts into noisy tears. Harry jumps.

_ “S-sit down!” _ he wails.  _ “Never… never ever…” _

Definitely not a serial killer then. He hears the voices downstairs falter and quickly jumps into action.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers urgently, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything —”

“Offend Dobby!” Dobby interrupts him. “Dobby has  _ never _ been asked to sit down by a wizard — like an  _ equal _ —”

Harry knows he’s not good at comforting or encouraging looks but he gives it his best shot while saying, “Shh,” over and over and ushering Dobby onto his bed. It takes a minute but Dobby calms down.

“You can't have met many decent wizards,” Harry says, attempting to cheer him up.

There’s a beat of silence before, suddenly, there’s a loud repetitive banging that makes Hedwig screech and beat her wings against her cage again. 

_ “Bad _ Dobby!  _ Bad _ Dobby!” Dobby shouts over and over.

“What are you doing?” Harry leaps up, grabbing Dobby and pulling him back onto the bed, giving him what he hopes is an incredulous look.

“Dobby had to punish himself, sir,” Dobby says and Harry’s incredulous look turns into a shocked expression. “Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir…”

“Your family?” Harry asks tentatively. Hedwig settles back down, but not without an indignant squawk at Dobby, one with actual heat behind it. 

“The wizard family Dobby serves, sir… Dobby’s is a house-elf — bound to serve one house and one family forever.”

“Do they know you're here?” Harry asks, hoping they do because he doesn’t want the elf to start banging his head on things again.

“Oh, no, sir, no… Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir —”

Harry blinks, “But won’t they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?” 

“Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments…”

“Why don't you leave? Escape?”

“A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free… Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir…”

It takes him a moment to process this but then his eyes widen, “Can't anyone help you? Can't I?”

Harry flinches when Dobby bursts into wails of gratitude. 

“Please,” Harry whispers frantically, wishing he could just reach out and cover the elf’s mouth, “please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything, if they know you're here —”

“Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby… Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew…”

Harry’s face heats up, “Whatever you've heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I'm not even top of my year at Hogwarts; that's Hermione, she —”

He stops. Thinking about Hermione is painful.

“Harry Potter is humble and modest,” Dobby says reverently. “Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named —”

“Voldemort?” Harry says.

Dobby squeaks, "Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"

“Sorry,” Harry says quickly, not wanting another sobbing fest. “I know lots of people don't like it. My friend Ron —”

He stops again. Thinking about Ron is even more painful than thinking about Hermione.

“Dobby heard tell,” Dobby says, his voice closer to Harry’s face, meaning he just leaned in, “that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time just weeks ago… that Harry Potter escaped  _ yet again.” _

Harry nods slowly, leaning away. He’s not too keen to have a house-elf close to his face when he can’t see just  _ how  _ close.

“Ah, sir,” he gasps and there’s a quiet rustle of fabric. “Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he  _ does _ have to shut his ears in the oven door later…  _ Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.” _

Harry blinks, “What? But I’ve got to go back — term starts on September first. It’s all that’s keeping me going. You don’t know what it’s like here. I don’t belong here. I belong in your world — at Hogwarts.”

“No, no, no,” Dobby squeaks. Harry hears a sort of flapping and realizes with a start that it’s the elf’s ears making that noise as he shakes his head. If only Dean were here to tell him what Dobby looks like. “Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger.”

“Why?” Harry asks. If only he had a house-elf to warn him about Dumbledore planning on him fighting Quirrell. Maybe that’s what this is, another Dumbledore plot. 

“There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year,” Dobby whispers. “Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!”

Harry couldn’t agree more but… he  _ really  _ wants to talk to Ron again. 

He startles at this thought but quickly brushes it aside to ask, “What terrible things? Who’s plotting them?”

Dobby makes a strangled noise and then the banging starts again, this time on his wall and not his window.

“All right!” Harry surges forward and grabs the elf’s arm to stop him. “You can’t tell me. I understand. But why are you warning  _ me?” _ Before Dobby can answer, though, Harry continues speaking, “This hasn’t got anything to do with Vol — sorry — with You-Know-Who, has it?”

“Not — not _ He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, _ sir —”

Harry figures this must be some hint but without a name, he’s not going to understand.

“Well then, I can’t think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts,” Harry says. “I mean, there’s Dumbledore — you know who Dumbledore is, don’t you?”

“Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had,” Dobby says. This has not been Harry’s point, he had said that to mean that Dumbledore could be plotting, but he decides not to correct Dobby. “Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore’s powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, sir” — Dobby’s voice drops to an urgent whisper — “there are powers Dumbledore doesn’t… powers no decent wizard…”

And just like that, Dobby rips himself out of Harry’s grip, seizes his desk lamp — he knows it’s his desk lamp thank to the rattle of the bulb, considering it’s not the correct bulb for the lamp and doesn’t fit into the socket (Harry doesn’t particularly care, he never turns on the light in his room anyway) — and begins banging it against his head with yelps of pain. 

Panic shoots through Harry when the noise downstairs stops and he rushes forward, fighting with Dobby to get the lamp from him as he hears Uncle Vernon call down the hall, “Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!”

“Quick! In the closet!” Harry throws his lamp onto his desk and shoves Dobby into his wardrobe. He shuts the door and dives onto his bed just as his bedroom door opens.

“What — the —  _ devil _ — are — you — doing?” Uncle Vernon says a second later, his face an inch from Harry’s, spit flying out and hitting Harry with every word. “You’ve just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke… One more sound and you’ll wish you’d never been born, boy!”

He stomps out of the room and Harry quickly wipes his face with a grimace before letting Dobby out of his wardrobe.

“See what it’s like here?” he says to the elf. “See why I’ve got to go back to Hogwarts? It’s the only place I’ve got — well, I  _ think  _ I’ve got friends.”

“Friends who don’t even write to Harry Potter?” Dobby says slyly, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. 

“I expect they’ve just been — wait a minute,” Harry frowns. “How do  _ you _ know my friends haven’t been writing to me?”

Dobby sounds very shameful when he speaks again, “Harry Potter mustn’t be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best —”

_ “Have you been stopping my letters?” _

“Dobby has them here, sir,” there’s a rustle of fabric that Harry now assumes are the elf’s clothes. “Harry Potter mustn’t be angry… Dobby hoped… if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him… Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir…”

Harry makes a grab for the letters but he hand swipes through the air.

“Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby his word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won’t go back, sir!”

“No!” Harry growls. “Give me my friends’ letters!”

“Then Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice,” Dobby says sadly.

Harry hears Dobby sprint out of his room and horror strikes through his heart. If the Dursleys  _ or  _ the Masons catch sight of him… 

Harry darts out of his room and down the stairs, years of practice making the fast trip completely silent, thank  _ god.  _ He stops in the kitchen, crouching down behind the counter. The dining room, fortunately, is out of sight of the kitchen but Harry isn’t taking any chances, not when he can’t rely on his own sight to help him.

“Harry Potter must say he’s not going back to school,” a voice suddenly whispers from high up.

“Dobby — what are you doing?” Harry whispers urgently.

“Say it.”

_ “No,”  _ Harry scowls. “Whatever you’re doing, Dobby,  _ quit.” _

“Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter’s own good.”

There’s a heart-stopping crash and Harry feels something with a cream consistently — the smell confirms that it  _ is  _ cream — cover him and the dish the pudding had been on shatters. Harry hears a crack and knows, even without knowing that it was a thing wizards could do, that Dobby just vanished. Screams echo through the house and Harry just lets his knees fall onto the ground in defeat as Uncle Vernon bursts into the kitchen. 

Uncle Vernon would’ve salvaged the situation had it not been for the owl. He had made the excuse of Harry being nervous around strangers, threatened him with a beating after the Masons left, and handed him a mop. He really would’ve made the deal if it hadn’t been for the owl.

Harry hasn’t even begun to clean when he hears the owl swoop past him and enter the living room. He goes rigid and flinches when Mrs. Mason screams and flees from the house. Mr. Mason explains his wife’s mortal fear of birds before angrily leaving as well. 

“Read it!” Uncle Vernon hisses when he finally rounds on Harry. “Go on — read it!”

Harry takes the letter and opens it with shaking hands. He earns a grunt of disgust when they see that the words have miraculously changed from simple writing to braille but he ignores it in favor of actually reading the words.

_ Dear Mr. Potter, _

_ We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine. As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C). We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy. _

_ Enjoy your holidays! _

_ Yours sincerely, _

_ Mafalda Hopkirk _

_ IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE _

_ Ministry of Magic _

“You didn’t tell us you weren’t allowed to use magic outside school,” Uncle Vernon says once Harry finishes reading it out loud. “Forgot to mention it… Slipped your mind, I daresay… Well, I’ve got news for you, boy… I’m locking you up… You’re never going back to that school… never… and if you try and magic yourself out — they’ll expel you!”

Laughing madly, he drags Harry upstairs.

And Uncle Vernon is a man true to his word.

The next day, he pays a man to fit bars on Harry’s window and then he, himself, installs a cat flap on the bedroom door so food can be pushed in. He’s let out to use the bathroom in the morning when he wakes up and in the evening before he goes to sleep but other than that, Harry is locked in his room around the clock.

Three days later and the Dursleys show no sign of relenting, and Harry can’t see any way out of this situation. Literally. 

The cat-flap rattles and Harry jumps up, seizing the can of soup and drinking half of it in one gulp. He tips the soggy vegetables into Hedwig’s empty food tray and she claps her bill at him a few times.

“It’s no use turning your beak up at it — it’s all we’ve got,” he tells her as he sets the empty bowl back on the floor next to the cat-flap. He lays down on his bed as she claps her bill a few more times before beginning to eat. “I’ll get you real food when we get out of here. If we ever do, that is.”

She hoots around a mouthful of vegetables and he laughs softly. 

She finishes a minute later and hoots at him, shifting in her cage before falling silent. Harry presumes she’s fallen asleep. 

He turns over and closes his eyes, falling into an uneasy sleep minutes later.

He awakes to a rattling sort of noise what must be an hour or so later and turns to face Hedwig’s cage, “Hey, calm down, you’re making a racket. You’ll wake them.”

Hedwig, however, hoots very urgently at him and he sighs, getting out of bed.

“What is it? Is there a bird on the window sill, again?”

She claps her bill at him and he sighs again, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he walks over to the window to get rid of whatever is making her agitated. He reaches out to pull the window open but his hands, instead, brush against somebody else’s hands and a very familiar voice says, “Not a bird, but good try, mate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry and hedwig make me soft :') i miss her everyday and so does harry :'(  
> anyway  
> the next chapter will be posted on monday, july 27th  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	3. The Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i need to put any trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

_ “Ron?”  _ Harry breathes, a smile creeping onto his face. “What are you — how are you — ?”

“What’s been going on?” Ron says instead of answering his question. “Why haven’t you been answering my letters? I’ve asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you’d got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles —”

“It wasn’t me — and how did he know?”

“He works for the Ministry,” Ron says. “You  _ know _ we’re not supposed to do spells outside school —”

“I told you, I didn’t — but it’ll take too long to explain now — look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won’t let me come back, and obviously I can’t magic myself out, because the Ministry’ll think that’s the second spell I’ve done in three days, so —”

“Stop gibbering,” Ron interrupts him. “We’ve come to take you home with us.”

Harry pauses.  _ We?  _ “But you can’t magic me out either —”

“We don’t need to,” Ron says, a smile in his voice. “You forget who I’ve got with me.”

“All right, Harry?” another voice — Fred — says. “Hey, I’m throwing a rope. Tie it around the bars.”

“If the Dursleys wake up, I’m dead,” Harry says as he ties the rope tightly around the bars.

“Don’t worry,” Fred says, “and stand back.”

Harry steps back next to Hedwig’s cage, who has now fallen silent. A car — Harry doesn’t even  _ want  _ to know — revs up louder and louder before the bars are pulled out of the window with a crunch.

Harry listens for any movement from his relatives and smiles when he hears none, rushing back to the window.

“Get in,” Ron says, presumably holding a hand out.

“But my Hogwarts stuff — my wand — my broomstick —”

“Where is it?”

“Locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and I can’t get out of this room —”

“No problem,” George’s voice says. “Out of the way, Harry.”

Harry steps out of the way as the twins climb into his room like cats. George walks over to his door and begins to do something that rattles the doorknob quietly.

“A lot of wizards think it’s a waste of time, knowing how to pick a lock,” Fred says, “but we feel they’re skills worth learning, even if they are a bit slow.”

Harry is thankful that they did learn them or they wouldn’t be able to get his stuff.

There’s a small click and then George is whispering quickly, “So — we’ll get your trunk — you grab anything you need from your room and hand it out to Ron.”

“Watch out for the bottom stair — it creaks,” Harry warns. 

They leave his room and Harry turns back around. He dashes around, grabbing some little things he wants to take and then he helps Fred and George heave his trunk up the stairs. They manage to push it into the car and just as Harry hoists himself onto the window sill, a thought strikes through him. A split second later, the subject of said thought screeches and he winces, climbing down.

“THAT RUDDY OWL!”

“Dammit, Hedwig,” Harry hisses, grabbing her cage just as he hears the landing light click on. He passes her to Ron and climbs onto the chest of drawers as Uncle Vernon reaches the door and pounds on it before opening it and stumbling in. 

He gives a great roar and Harry’s ankle is seized. Fred, George, and Ron grab his arms and pull as hard as they can.

“Petunia!” Uncle Vernon yells. “He’s getting away! HE’S GETTING AWAY!”

The three give a gigantic tug and Harry’s ankle slips out of Uncle Vernon’s grip. He lands on top of Ron and quickly scrambles into a sitting position as Fred steps on the gas. He rolls the window down and sticks his head out, yelling, “See you next summer!” at the family, earning laughter from the three boys, both for the joke and his words.

He sits back in his seat, grinning, “Let Hedwig out. She can fly behind us. She hasn’t had a chance to stretch her wings in ages.”

When Ron picks the lock and the cage opens, Hedwig nuzzles against Harry’s face before flying past him and into the air. Harry's mind briefly reminds him of his cane that's been lying in his cupboard since last summer and he frowns. He forgot to mention that to Fred and George.

“So — what’s the story, Harry?” Ron asks, interrupting Harry's thought process. “What's been happening?”

Harry tells them about Dobby, the warning and the fiasco with the pudding in the kitchen. After he finishes, there’s a long, shocked silence.

“Very fishy,” Fred finally says.

“Definitely dodgy,” George agrees. “So he wouldn’t even tell you who’s supposed to be plotting all this stuff?”

“I don’t think he could,” Harry says, shrugging. “I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“You think he was lying to me,” Harry says. It’s a statement, not a question. He knows a disbelieving silence when he hears one. Mrs. Figg, the woman who used to babysit him when the Dursleys would go out, is the best at them.

“Well,” Fred says tentatively, “put it this way — house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can’t usually use it without their master’s permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone’s idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?”

“Yes,” he and Ron say instantly.

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry elaborates. “He hates me.”

“Draco Malfoy?” George says. “Not Lucius Malfoy’s son?”

“Must be, it’s not a very common name, is it?” Harry raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I’ve heard Dad talking about him,” George says. “He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who.”

“And when You-Know-Who disappeared,” Fred says, “Lucius Malfoy came back saying he’d never meant any of it. Load of dung — Dad reckons he was right in You-Know-Who’s inner circle.”

“I don’t know whether the Malfoys own a house-elf…” Harry mumbles.

“Well, whoever owns him will be an old wizarding family, and they’ll be rich,” Fred says wisely.

“Yeah, Mum’s always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing,” George says. “But all we’ve got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden. House-elves come with big old manors and castles and places like that; you wouldn’t catch one in our house…”

Harry frowns. Maybe they’re right. He hadn’t  _ really  _ taken Dobby seriously but honestly, you never know with magic and especially considering what happened last year… 

“I’m glad we came to get you, anyway,” Ron says. “I was getting really worried when you didn’t answer any of my letters,” Harry heart flutters and his face burns at the thought of Ron worrying over him. He quickly recovers and pushes that out of his mind even quicker, very much ignoring it. “I thought it was Errol’s fault at first —”

“Who’s Errol?” 

“Our owl. He’s ancient. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes —”

_ “Who?” _

“The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made prefect,” Fred says.

“But Percy wouldn’t lend him to me,” Ron continues. “Said he needed him.” 

“Percy’s been acting very oddly this summer,” George says. “And he  _ has  _ been sending a lot of letters and spending a load of time shut up in his room… I mean, there’s only so many  times you can polish a prefect badge… You’re driving too far west, Fred,” he adds.

“So, does your dad know you’ve got the car?” Harry says, hoping his tone is more ‘scolding-responsible-friend’ than ‘tired-mum’ but even he can hear the ‘tired-mum’ in his voice.

“Er, no,” Ron says, “he had to work tonight. Hopefully we’ll be able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew it.”

“What does your dad do at the Ministry of Magic, anyway?”

“He works in the most boring department,” Ron says. “The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.”

Harry blinks, immediately guessing what that means, “And — well, I’m assuming this is a flying car and — ?”

Fred laughs, “Yeah, Dad’s crazy about everything to do with Muggles; our shed’s full of Muggle stuff. He takes it apart, puts spells on it, and puts it back together again. If he raided  _ our _ house  he’d have to put himself under arrest. It drives Mum mad.”

Harry can concur with Mrs Weasley. If  _ his  _ husband — oh god, when had the imaginary wife become a man? — did the exact thing his job was out to stop, he’d be pretty angry too. Not that being interested in Muggle things is a bad thing — there’s plenty interesting things in the Muggle world that Harry is interested in — but when it’s your job to stop the very thing you’re doing… but Harry won’t judge the man simply because of this information. If he had a hand in raising Ron — or any of his brothers — then he must be just as nice.

“That’s the main road,” George says. “We’ll be there in ten minutes… Just as well, it’s getting light… We’re a little way outside the village. Ottery St. Catchpole.”

Harry feels the car get lower and lower before — 

“Touchdown!” Fred exclaims after a bump. The car comes to a stop and Harry assumes they’ve made it to Ron’s house.

“It’s not much,” Ron mumbles.

“Don’t go getting depressed about it — I can’t  _ see  _ it,” Harry grins and Ron laughs. Christ, Harry missed his laugh.

They get out of the car.

“Now, we’ll go upstairs really quietly,” Fred tells them, “and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast. Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, ‘Mum, look who turned up in the night!’ and  she’ll be all pleased to see Harry and no one need ever know we flew the car.”

“Right,” Ron says. “Come on, Harry, I sleep at the — at the top —”

He stops and Harry’s heart sinks.

_ “Ah,”  _ Fred says, fear evident in his voice.

“Oh, dear,” George mutters.

Harry slowly turns around.

A moment of silence.

_ “So,”  _ the slightly familiar voice of Mrs Weasley says.

“Morning, Mum,” George says jauntily.

“Have you any idea how worried I’ve been?” Mrs Weasley says in a deadly whisper much scarily than Hermione’s. Harry assumes she’s had a lot more practice than Hermione.

“Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —”

And then she explodes.

_ “Beds empty! No note! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I’ve lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy —” _

“Perfect Percy,” Fred mutters and even Harry knows that was a mistake.

“YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!” Mrs Weasley yells. “You could have  _ died, _ you could have been  _ seen, _ you could have lost your father his  _ job _ —”

Harry, who has honestly been thinking the very same things (though he’s very glad to have been saved), happily shoves his hands into the pockets of his too-big sweatpants and waits with a grin. 

His grin falters, however, when she directs her words at him, “I’m very pleased to see you, Harry, dear. Come in and have some breakfast.”

Harry is very glad to have Ron’s elbow in his hand again. Ron leans close and mutters, “You’re very mean, y’know that, right?”

Harry’s grin returns, “You deserved it, you prick.”

“And who was it that just saved your life?”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry turns his head away from him and Ron laughs.

They enter the house and all take a seat at the table next to the kitchen while Mrs Weasley begins cooking sausages and eggs. Harry almost has the nerve to ask if she needs help but judging by her angry muttering and clattering, he thinks she’s better off cooking on her own for now.

“I don’t blame  _ you, _ dear,” she assures Harry as she tips sausages onto his plate. “Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we’d come and get you ourselves if you hadn’t written back to Ron by Friday. But really, flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —” 

“It was cloudy, Mum!” Fred exclaims.

“You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs Weasley snaps.

“They were starving him, Mum!” George cuts in now.

“And you!” she begins cutting some bread for Harry.

Harry feels very odd sitting here and letting her make his plate but it’s not like he’s going to  _ complain.  _ That would be silly.

Harry hears fast footsteps, a squeal, and then more fast footsteps.

Harry blinks, “What?”

Ron laughs quietly, saying in an even quieter voice, “Ginny. My sister. She’s been talking about you all summer.”

“Yeah, she’ll be wanting your autograph, Harry,” Fred says before quickly shutting his mouth.

The rest of breakfast is silent and Harry, considering how much talking has been going on in just an hour or two, is happy for it. 

_ “Blimey, _ I’m tired,” Fred yawns, the last one to finish eating. “I think I’ll go to bed and —”

“You will not,” Mrs Weasley snaps. “It’s your own fault you’ve been up all night. You’re going to de-gnome the garden for me; they’re getting completely out of hand again —”

“Oh, Mum —”

“And you two,” she says. “You can go up to bed, dear,” she adds to Harry. “You didn’t ask them to fly that wretched car —”

Harry, who actually did get some sleep and feels wide awake, quickly says, “I’ll help Ron. I’ve never seen a de-gnoming —”

“That’s very sweet of you, dear, but it’s dull work,” Mrs Weasley tells him. “Now, let’s see what Lockhart’s got to say on the subject —”

George groans, “Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden —”

“Lockhart?” Harry asks, curious.

“Oh, he is marvelous,” Mrs Weasley says dreamily. “He knows his household pests, all right, it’s a wonderful book…”

“Mum  _ fancies _ him,” Fred whispers very audibly.

“Don’t be so ridiculous, Fred,” Mrs Weasley says, sounding quite embarrassed. “All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it, and woe betide you if there’s a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it.”

They all head outside and immediately, Ron snorts,  _ “I’ve never seen a de-gnoming,  _ honestly, Harry.”

Harry grins, “She didn’t catch it.”

“Too busy staring at Lockhart,” George says. “Bloody git is ridiculous — obviously a fraud but he’s  _ pretty  _ so all the girls love him.”

“Obviously?” Harry raises his eyebrow.

“You ask him a question about his books and he just evades it — acts like he didn’t hear you. I’ve read some of his interviews in the Prophet and it’s like listening to Lee lie to Snape about what we had just been doing,” Fred says.

“You  _ listen  _ to that bullshit?” George says and Harry remembers very quickly that the two boys are fourth years now. “Merlin, you’re whipped.”

“Oi! Piss off!” there’s a smack and George shrieks. Ron laughs, presumably at both of them.

“Boys!” Mrs Weasley’s warning yell comes from a window not far from them. “You keep up that language and I’ll give you something to swear about!”

Harry snickers as the boys quickly begin actually de-gnoming the garden. Harry attempts to get one but quickly learns the job is better done by the people with sight. Harry continues to talk to them, though, as they work. Eventually, they all stand up straight and Ron says, “They’ll be back. They love it here… Dad’s too soft with them; he thinks they’re funny…”

Just then, the front door slams.

“He’s back!” George says. “Dad’s home!”

They hurry back through the garden and into the house.

“What a night,” Mr Weasley grumbles as they all sit down at the table around him. “Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned…”

“Find anything, Dad?” Fred says eagerly.

“All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle,” Mr Weasley yawns. “There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn’t my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that’s the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness…”

“Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?” George mumbles.

“Just Muggle-baiting,” Mr Weasley sighs. “Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it… Of course, it’s very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking — they’ll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they’ll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it’s staring them in the face… But the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn’t believe —”

“LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?” Mrs Weasley appears and Harry flinches only slightly.

“C-cars, Molly, dear?” Mr Weasley says tentatively.

Harry grins again and earns an elbow to the side from Ron for it.

“Yes, Arthur, cars,” Mrs Weasley growls. “Imagine a wizard buying a rusty old car and telling his wife all he wanted to do with it was take it apart to see how it worked, while  _ really _ he was enchanting it to make it  _ fly.” _

Mr Weasley is silent for a moment.

“Well, dear, I think you’ll find that he would be quite within the law to do that, even if — er — he maybe would have done better to, um, tell his wife the truth… There’s a loophole in the law,  you’ll find… As long as he wasn’t _ intending  _ to fly the car, the fact that the car  _ could _ fly wouldn’t —”

“Arthur Weasley, you made sure there was a loophole when you wrote that law!” Mrs Weasley shouts. “Just so you could carry on tinkering with all that Muggle rubbish in your shed! And for your information, Harry arrived this morning in the car you weren’t intending to fly!”

“Harry?” Mr Weasley says. “Harry who?” He pauses and then says, “Good lord, is it Harry Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron’s told us so much about —”

_ “Your sons flew that car to Harry’s house and back last night!” _ Mrs Weasley yells, effectively distracting Harry’s face from heating up at the thought of Ron talking about him. “What have you got to say about that, eh?”

“Did you really?” Mr Weasley says eagerly and Harry suppresses a laugh. “Did it go all right? I — I mean… that — that was very wrong, boys — very wrong indeed…”

“Let’s leave them to it,” Ron mutters to Harry. “Come on, I’ll show you my bedroom.”

Ron pulls Harry along, zigzagging up a staircase that seems never ending. On the third landing, a door snaps shut and Ron sighs, “Ginny. You don’t know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally —”

Two more flights of stairs later and finally, they enter Ron’s room. 

He stops at the door after Ron closes it, moving his head around nervously.

“What?” Ron asks, sounding just as nervous as Harry. 

Harry realizes with a start that Ron is still self-conscious about the house and momentarily puts his own worries aside, “Ron, whatever you’ve got in here, I can’t see. Quit worrying, you nitwit.”

Ron sighs, “Why’d you get that look on your face?”

_ “I can’t see,”  _ Harry says again. “Ron — no offense or anything — you’re the worst person to live with because you just own  _ so much  _ and it’s always  _ everywhere  _ and I’m afraid I’m going to step on something and break it if I just start walking around.”

Ron lets out a startled laugh, “Right, my bad. I’ll, uh, clean the floor up a bit. Also — er — we’ll be putting a camp bed in for you to sleep on and it’ll get even smaller. You won’t have much room to step on anything, anyway.”

“Oh my god, Ronald, if you get insecure about the house I  _ can’t even see  _ one more time…”

Ron’s laugh is more real this time, “Sorry, sorry. I’ll stop.”

“You better,” Harry mumbles. “So, what do wizards do in their free time?”

“Well, I’m so glad you asked…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anybody: mentions ron even thinking about harry  
> harry: jdhsghajgholyshithakfhfljgkhl  
> anyway  
> the next chapter will be posted on wednesday, july 29th  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	4. At Flourish and Blotts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i need to put any trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Life at the Burrow — Ron had told him that’s what they call the house — couldn’t be more different from life on Privet Drive. The Dursleys were always very neat and tidy people — as is Harry himself — but here at the Burrow, chaos is just the norm. What is most fascinating to Harry, more than talking mirrors or noisy ghouls or explosions from Fred and George’s room, is the fact that the Weasleys seem to actually  _ like  _ him. 

Mrs Weasley fusses over how skinny he is, saying they should’ve come and got him sooner if they’d known he was being starved, and in a move that almost made Harry tear up, she put cushioning charms on all the edges of furniture and corners of walls. She took notice of Harry stubbing his toe multiple times everyday and decided instead of yelling out and warning him — something that Ron told her is a strike in Harry’s pride — that she would just put cushioning charms on everything so that Harry doesn’t hurt himself. He thanks her in the rare moment that she’s alone and gets a tight hug in return, something that  _ does  _ make him tear up. 

Mr Weasley sits next to him at breakfast and asks him all about Muggle technology, something Harry is all too happy to indulge him in. He spends most meals explaining how plugs or the postal service or lawnmowers work and Mr Weasley listens intently.

About a week after he arrives at the Burrow, their Hogwarts letters arrive. When he and Ron come down for breakfast, Harry hears a clatter and knows that Ginny just knocked something over, which she’s prone to do when Harry enters the same room she’s in. Harry pretends not to hear this and sits in his usual spot in between Mr Weasley and Ron, taking the toast Mrs Weasley offers him.

“Letters from school,” Mr Weasley says, passing a letter to Harry. “Dumbledore already knows you’re here, Harry — doesn’t miss a trick, that man. You two’ve got them, too,” he adds when Fred and George stumble in.

“Can you — ?” the awkward question from Fred is directed at Harry and it takes him a second to register what he’s asking.

“Oh!” Harry processes it finally. “It’s the — the parchment, it recognizes what it’s reader needs — s’why I could do my written exams without somebody reading to me.”

“Huh,” Fred mumbles. “That’s pretty cool. I heard that books did it but I didn’t know it was the  _ parchment.  _ I wonder why —”

Fred stops abruptly and George snorts. Harry decides to pretend he doesn’t realize Fred is embarrassed about wanting to know more about the topic and just opens his letter. For the next few minutes, they’re all silent as they read their supply lists.

_ SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE: _

_ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk _

_ Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart _

_ Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart _

_ Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart _

_ Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart _

_ Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart _

_ Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart _

_ Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart _

Harry blinks, his eyebrows turning down in confusion. 

“Lockhart’s books are really expensive,” George mumbles, worry in his voice.

Ah, so Harry  _ did  _ read correctly. Every book this year, besides one, is written by ‘obviously-a-fraud’ Gilderoy Lockhart. Spectacular.

“Well, we’ll manage,” Mrs Weasley says, though she sounds just as worried as George. “I expect we’ll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny’s things secondhand.”

“Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?” Harry asks curiously. Ginny, from the way her brothers talk about her, is pretty interesting but considering she won’t even speak in Harry’s presence, he doesn’t really know much about her.

Ginny hums, the only verbal response Harry gets from her when he talks to her. She obviously doesn’t want to just ignore him but she’s too scared to  _ talk  _ so she’s resorted to hums and squeaks. 

“Morning, all,” a different voice says and Harry jumps. “Lovely day.”

There’s a rustle of a movement and then —

“Errol!” Ron exclaims. _ “Finally _ — he’s got Hermione’s answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys.”

“Has her summer been well?” Harry asks as Ron stands from the table and takes a few steps.

“She keeps talking about something called a retainer — said her parents didn’t want to use magic to straighten her teeth,” Ron sits back down. “It hurts a lot, apparently.”

“I had a friend at school — she had braces and complained about them all the time,” Harry shrugs. “Kept telling me what colors she got — as if I could see them. Anyway —”

Ron laughs, ripping open Hermione’s letter. He reads it out loud.

_ “‘Dear Ron, and Harry if you’re there, _

_ “‘I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn’t do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I’ve been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish your one off. _

_ “‘I’m very busy with schoolwork, of course’ _ — How can she be?” Ron says in horror and Harry laughs. “We’re on vacation! — _ ‘and we’re going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don’t we meet in Diagon Alley?  _

_ “‘Let me know what’s happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.’” _

“Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too,” Mrs Wealsey says. “What’re you all up to today?”

Harry, Ron, Fred, and George are heading up to the paddock the Weasleys own to play Quidditch with apples, considering they can’t risk real Quidditch balls flying into the nearby village. They ask Percy if he wants to join but, like he has every time they ask, he refuses and shuts himself in his room. This behavior is unusual, according to his brothers, and the fact that he hadn’t gloated about his O.W.L. exam results at all even more so. Also according to them, Percy is quite a good player, though a very bad sport and a sore loser, so he’s fun to play with, only when he wins. He’s a beater, apparently, just like the twins. Harry, who didn’t even know Percy could ride a broom, is very shocked by this.

“Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year,” George says as they walk up to the paddock. “Five sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything…”

Harry feels very awkward. His vault down in Gringotts is filled to the brim with Sickles, Galleons, and Knuts. He would offer to buy their school supplies — lord knows he has more than enough to buy them all new supplies, maybe even a  _ house  _ — but if somebody warning him that he’s about to run into a wall is a strike in his pride, he can only imagine how it would make the Weasleys feel to be offered financial help. 

He’s may be stupid and oblivious but at least he knows  _ that. _

Next Wednesday, Mrs Weasley wakes them all up early. They eat quickly and then pull on their coats, Harry gripping Ron’s elbow as he waits for instructions on how to get to Diagon Alley. He’s excited to talk to Hermione again and meet her parents but considering he had a panic attack the last time he went to Diagon Alley, he’s more than a little scared.

“We’re running low, Arthur,” Mrs Weasley sighs. “We’ll have to buy some more today… Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!”

Harry blinks, “W-what?”

“He’s never traveled by Floo powder,” Ron says and Harry gives him an incredulous look. “Sorry, Harry.”

“Never?” Mr Weasley says. “But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?”

“I went on the Underground —”

“Really?” Mr Wealsey says eagerly. “Were there  _ escapators? _ How exactly —”

“Not  _ now, _ Arthur,” Mrs Weasley stops him. “Floo powder’s a lot quicker, dear, but goodness me, if you’ve never used it before —”

“Um, well, he can go with me,” Ron suggests tentatively. “It’s quite hard to stick the landing the first time and it’s always too crowded — you’d be whisked away if you stumbled into the crowd.”

“What exactly  _ is  _ this?” Harry says.

“Right, er, it’s pretty much the only way underage wizards can travel without using magic, besides portkeys or brooms — you use the fireplace. It’s quite hard to explain without sounding mad, you’ll just have to trust us,” Ron says. “We aren’t shoving you into fire, I can at least promise you that.”

“Oh, thanks, Ron, I appreciate it,” Harry says wryly. _ “Can  _ you travel in pairs?”

“It all depends on the size of the fireplace and, fortunately, ours is big enough to fit you both,” Mrs Weasley says. “You two go first and you wait right there when you get there, Ronald.”

“I know, Mum,” Ron says. “Keep your arms tucked, Haz, and close your eyes and mouth. And don’t do that thing you do — where you don’t listen just to make me mad —”

“I’m not looking to hurt myself, Ron, I only do that when I know it’d be funny.”

“Quite hilarious that it never is then,” Ron mumbles and Harry grins. “Hold on tight, I don’t want you to come out at the wrong grate because you let go of me.”

Harry nods.

When they step in the fire, it feels more like a warm breeze than anything. Harry does as he’s told and closes his eyes and mouth, looping his arm in Ron’s and tucking his other one close to his side. 

“Diagon Alley!” Ron shouts.

It feels as if he’s being sucked down a drain. There’s a deafening roar in his ears and after a moment, it feels like cold hands start slapping him in the face. Almost as soon as it starts, though, it ends and he stumbles forward. Ron catches him and tightens the link of their arms.

“Holy  _ shit,”  _ Harry mumbles and Ron laughs.

“I’ve never heard you curse before.”

“I felt the situation deserved it,” Harry shakes his head and straightens up. “I don’t like that very much.”

“It’s not my favorite. I prefer to fly but some places are too far,” Ron says.

Harry hums.

Fred comes through next and then George, Mr Weasley and Ginny, Percy, and finally, Mrs Weasley. They begin to walk.

“We’ll be headed to Gringotts first,” Mrs Weasley tells them.

Harry grimaces and Ron leans close and whispers, “What’s that face?”

Harry sighs, lowering his voice as well, “I-I don’t want to sound arrogant but… my vault —”

“Oh,” Ron understands quickly. “Right. I heard that the Potter’s were pretty wealthy but I couldn’t tell you why. I’m sure it’s in books, I think it’s got something to do with potions. Anyway, it makes sense you’d have a lot of money — you aren’t being arrogant.”

Harry’s face twists up,  _ “Potions?  _ I owe my wealth to my worst subject?”

“Pretty ironic,” Ron snickers. “And you aren’t the  _ worst,  _ Snape just gives you horrible marks because he —”

“Hates me, yes, I’m aware.”

They continue walking, Harry practically hugging Ron’s side to avoid touching anybody, until —

“Harry! Ron!”

“Hermione!” they both exclaim before being wrapped in a giant hug from the girl. Harry gets some hair in his mouth but he can’t find it in himself to care.

“Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you two again,” Hermione lets go of them and steps back, taking her hair with her. “I know you sent a letter with Hedwig but I think I need to hear it out loud.”

Harry nods, “I’ll explain as we walk. Are we at Gringotts?”

“Yes! Are you coming in? My parents are exchanging money but — oh, you have vaults, don’t you? I  _ do  _ wish I could ride with you, I want to see a wizard vault but seeing as we don’t have one and I’m not family, I won’t be allowed,” Hermione links her arm with Harry’s free one and they walk up the steps leading to the bank. “Oh and it’s very wonderful you meet you Mrs Weasley, Mr Weasley. And Ginny! Ron has told me all about you and I’ve been  _ dying  _ to meet you.”

Harry, for the first time since arriving at the Burrow, finally hears Ginny talk.

“Well, I’ve heard all about you from Ron so the feeling is mutual,” Harry can  _ hear  _ the smirk in her voice. Harry doesn’t find it very amusing, though.

“Hell yeah,” George says and Harry hears a two consecutive smacks, one a high-five and one a slap on the arm. “Ouch! It’s not even a swear —”

“George Fabian —”

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry, no middle name, please.”

They enter Gringotts and immediately, Mr Weasley starts geeking out about Hermione’s parents, making Harry hide a laugh in Hermione’s shoulder. She pats his head with a soft, “There, there, you’ll get through it,” that makes him laugh harder. 

Eventually, Harry and the Weasleys are led to their underground vaults by a goblin. They reach the Weasley vault first and then make their way down to Harry’s vault, the ride much longer than the first one, due to Harry’s vault being deeper underground. When Harry gets inside, he hastily shoves coins into a leather bag so they can get away from his much more full vault quicker. 

When they get back on the marble steps, Harry properly introduces himself to the Grangers after Percy, Fred, and George run off (“Stay away from Knockturn Alley, boys!”) and they seem to be relieved to meet someone so normal.

“Mio has told us so much about you, of course, she’s very fond of you,” Mrs Granger gushes after introducing herself as Diana. 

“Mum!” Hermione whines and Harry laughs.

“Drove us up a tree worrying about you this summer,” Mr Granger (“David but please, call me Dave.”) adds. 

“There was a complication with my owl and my relatives — I promise I’ll write next summer,” Harry says. 

Which is the truth, unfortunately. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mrs Granger says, sounding like every one of her suspicions had just been confirmed. They  _ had  _ seen how the Dursleys acted around Harry a few months ago so he’s not surprised that they picked up on something fishy. “I’m glad you're staying with the Weasleys, Harry.”

“Me too,” Harry smiles. 

Mr Weasley manages to convince them to go get drinks so he can talk to them and Mrs Weasley and Ginny head off to buy her school supplies, saying, “We’ll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your school books,” as they do.

The trio heads down the steps and Harry begins to explain the Dobby situation to Hermione so she can hear it out loud. He adds in his suspicions about Dumbledore, now knowing that he’s around people who don’t have blind faith for the man.

“Well, no matter,” she says. “If it’s real, I assume we’ll find out what it is pretty quickly. If it’s like last year, where Dumbledore was behind your involvement with it, it’ll probably be talked about in his opening speech. I can admire a great wizard but it just seems… wrong for the man who has so many people’s faith to put his own in the hands of a blind twelve-year-old.”

“Eleven-year-old, considering it started last year,” Harry mumbles. “I might’ve been able to brush it off — considering I didn’t die — but he made a jab at my intelligence, even if he didn’t realize it, and anybody who does that always annoys me.”

“Really? After everything you did all year, he  _ still  _ insulted you?” Ron sounds genuinely angry about it and Harry’s face heats up.

“Not  _ directly,  _ he meant well, I’m sure, but I’ve heard how people talk to disabled people, I’ve been such a person since I was like, five,” Harry shrugs. “It wasn’t so much an insult, it was just the way he told me he was impressed I figured out what the mirror did. Like he didn’t expect me to figure it out or whatever. So, he didn’t  _ insult  _ me but it was there.”

“Considering we aren’t the disabled people, I don’t think it’s our place to tell you whether or not it was one,” Ron says.

“At least you understand that. Not many people do.”

With nothing better to do, Harry decides to buy them all ice cream. Mr Fortescue, the ice-cream shop owner, offers to give Harry his for free and Harry barely thinks before saying yes. Despite being wealthy now, it’s quite hard to rid himself of the mindset of not being wealthy. Free samples at grocery stores used to be Harry’s saving grace so obviously, he’s not going to pass up free ice cream. 

After buying new quills and parchment, they make their way inside Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke shop and find Fred, George, and Lee buying Dr. Filibuster’s Fireworks. They don’t spend much time in this shop and as they leave, Ron asks, “Do you need anything for Hedwig, Harry?”

Harry immediately starts ranting. He has so many feelings about Hedwig and what she’s been through this summer, he could talk for hours about how angry he is with his relatives.

“They were starving you too, you know,” Ron reminds him as they make their way to Eeylops.

Harry glares at him, “I got food three times a day —”

“Are you seriously going to try and brush that away?”

“I’m just saying!” Harry exclaims. “I got food three times a day and Hedwig got cold, soggy vegetables. She’s a  _ carnivore,  _ Ronald!”

Harry finally stops after he’s bought a few bags of owl treats. Hermione changes the subject onto her retainer and it effectively distracts him. 

After an hour, the trio heads down to Flourish and Blotts and Hermione lets out a squeal when they get closer at the same time Ron lets out a groan.

“What?” Harry says.

“Gilderoy Lockhart — he’s here! He’s signing copies of his new autobiography, oh my goodness, we’ll actually get to meet him,” Hermione sighs dreamily. 

Hermione, his very logical best friend, is a fan of Gilderoy Lockhart. 

Harry sighs. Not dreamily, just tiredly.

They enter the bookshop and each grab a copy of  _ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 _ and then sneak up the line to get behind the Weasleys and Mr and Mrs Granger. 

“Oh, there you are, good,” Mrs Weasley says breathlessly. “We’ll be able to see him in a minute…”

Harry can tell when Lockhart emerges because the chatter picks up. They sound more excited to see Lockhart than Hogwarts had been to see Harry during his sorting. 

“Out of the way, there,” somebody snarls, pushing Ron, Hermione, and Harry out of the way. “This is for the  _ Daily Prophet  _ —”

“Big deal,” Ron mumbles. “Bloody git, stepping on my foot —”

“It  _ can’t _ be Harry Potter?”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Harry mutters under his breath when the crowd quiets down to excited whispers. Somebody — Lockhart — seizes Harry’s arm and pulls him out of Ron and Hermione grip. The crowd bursts into applause and Harry doesn’t have time to start yelling as Lockhart is now shaking his hand vigorously as a camera clicks away.

“Nice big smile, Harry,” Lockhart says. “Together, you and I are worth the front page.”

Harry scowls instead. When his hand is finally let go, it’s almost numb. Just as he opens his mouth to shout — good  _ god,  _ it’s been too long since he’s had a good row with somebody — Lockhart throws an arm over his shoulders and begins speaking as Harry tenses and frowns deeply.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the crowd quiets. “What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time!

“When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography — which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge —” the crowd applauds again. “He had no idea,” Lockhart continues, giving Harry a little shake that makes his lip curl up in disgust, “that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

A large stack of books is dropped into his arms as the crowd applauds and Harry quickly makes his way back through the crowd, not even apologizing for bumping into people. 

“Merlin,” Ron mutters when Harry reaches him.

“One of you can have these — Ginny, here, I’ll buy my own,” Harry tells her.

“Oh,” she squeaks as he dumps the books into her cauldron. 

He shakes his arms to get feeling back into them and scowls again, opening his mouth to begin cursing about Lockhart, only to be interrupted again.

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” 

Harry clenches his fists.

“ _ Famous  _ Harry Potter,” Malfoy continues. “Can’t even go into a _ bookshop  _ without making the front page.”

“Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!” Ginny cuts in before Harry can talk and he blinks. 

“Potter, you’ve got yourself a  _ girlfriend!”  _

Harry raises his eyebrows. Before he can think too much about why his mind thinks that’s disgusting, Ron’s voice enters the conversation.

“Oh, it’s you. Bet you’re surprised to see Harry here, eh?”

_ Real subtle, Ron, why don’t you tell him all about Dobby too? _

“Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley,” Malfoy retorts. “I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those.”

Harry immediately grabs the back of Ron’s jacket as Ron drops his book into Ginny’s cauldron too.

“Ron!” Mr Wealsey now joins in. “What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.”

“Well, well, well — Arthur Weasley.”

Harry sighs. 

“Lucius,” Mr Weasley says coldly. 

Ah, so this must be Malfoy’s father.

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” Mr Malfoy says. “All those raids… I hope they’re paying you overtime?”

There’s a beat of silence, in which there’s a rustle of movement before —

“Obviously not. Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

“We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,” Mr Weasley says.

“Clearly,” Mr Malfoy says. “The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower —” 

There’s a sudden thud of metal and then a crash. A few more crashes after that, as well as a few screams. Fred and George yell, “Get him, Dad!” and Mrs Weasley shouts, “No, Arthur, no!”

A shop assistant tries to break up the fight but the loud voice of Hagrid is what does it.

“Break it up, there, gents, break it up —”

The sound of a book hitting somebody’s body, accompanied by, “Here, girl — take your book — it’s the best your father can give you —”

“Yeh should’ve ignored him, Arthur,” Hagrid says after the shop door slams. “Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that — no Malfoy’s worth listenin’ ter — bad blood, that’s what it is — come on now — let’s get outta here.”

Harry grips Ron’s arm tightly, trying to stop the hands from shaking. And he thought Diagon Alley itself was overwhelming… 

Mrs Weasley is beside herself in fury. “A  _ fine _ example to set for your children…  _ brawling _ in public…  _ what _ Gilderoy Lockhart must’ve thought —”

“He was pleased,” Fred cuts in. “Didn’t you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the  _ Daily Prophet _ if he’d be able to work the fight into his report — said it was all publicity —”

They reach the Leaky Cauldron to Floo back to the Burrow. Harry says goodbye to Hermione and her parents, grips Ron’s arm even tighter, and steps into the fireplace with him.

It’s probably the most underwhelming end to such an overwhelming day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ron? having common sense and not immediately getting jealous about everything? it's more likely than you'd think (i say that as i imagine the angst fourth year will allow me to write and get very happy)  
> anyway  
> the next chapter will be posted on friday, july 31st (wow :') isn't that perfect?)  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	5. The Whomping Willow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday to the only person ever, harry james potter :') he is FORTY YEARS OLD god what the hell 
> 
> if i need to put any trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

The end of summer comes way too quickly for Harry’s liking. He’s looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts but his month at the Burrow has been the happiest of his life. When he thinks about the Dursleys and how he’s going to be treated when he gets back next summer, he feels a pang of jealousy toward Ron, though he never voices this. 

On their last evening, Mrs Weasley cooks a big feast that includes all of Harry’s favorites, ending with a large treacle pudding. Fred and George end the night with a firework display that Harry has to listen to for half an hour. They drink one last mug of hot chocolate and then head to bed.

They wake up at dawn and even though they had been completely packed the night before, there seems to still be so much to do. 

Finally, they all pile into the car — which has been magically expanded to fit everybody’s luggage  _ and  _ everybody themselves. Mrs Weasley is none the wiser as to why exactly the car is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside and Harry thinks it’s quite funny that she doesn’t know it’s magic. By the time everybody grabs what they forgot — George with his Filibuster fireworks, Fred with his broomstick, and Ginny with her diary — they’re running late and tempers are running high. 

They reach King’s Cross with fifteen minutes to spare and by the time trunks are on trolleys and they’re standing in front of the barrier, they only have five minutes. Percy goes first, then Mr Weasley, and then Fred and George. Mrs Weasley goes with Ginny.

“We’ve only got a minute,” Ron says to Harry.

“Go!”

Ron starts walking quickly and then they’re running and then —

CRASH!

Harry is knocked off his feet and he hears Hedwig fall with a clatter onto the ground, screeching indignantly as she rolls away.

“What in blazes d’you think you’re doing?”

Harry turns his head in the direction of the voice, gasping for breath, “Lost control of the trolley,” he sits up, clutching his ribs. 

Ron runs off to grab Hedwig, who is causing such a rukcas that people are muttering about animal cruelty. 

“Ron,” Harry hisses. 

“I don’t know,” Ron sighs. “We can’t get through. And… oh, bloody hell…”

“Ron, you can’t just say that and not tell me what’s happening, you absolute —”

“The train’s gone. We’ve missed it.”

Harry stops. 

Hedwig is still screeching and Harry can feel eyes on them. Harry reaches out and finds her cage, sticking his hand through the bars. She claps her bill at him a few times and nips his fingers before nuzzling against his hand. Harry lets out a sigh of relief at the quiet.

“Mum and Dad — how are they gonna get back? What if they can’t? Oh, Harry, this is bad.”

“I realize that, Ron,” Harry says. “Look, we’re attracting too much attention, let’s just… go wait by the car or something.”

“Harry!” Ron’s voice is no longer stunned and scared, it sounds as if he’s had an idea. Harry, from experience, knows this can’t mean anything good. “The car! We can fly the car to Hogwarts!”

Harry blinks, “Ron, no, we can’t.”

“We’re stuck, right? And we’ve got to get to school, haven’t we? And even underage wizards are allowed to use magic if it’s a real emergency, section nineteen or something of the Restriction of Thingy —”

“But your mum and dad,” Harry tries. “How will they get home?”

“They don’t need the car!” Ron sounds impatient. “They know how to Apparate! You know, just vanish and reappear at home! They only bother with Floo powder and the car because we’re all

underage and we’re not allowed to Apparate yet…”

Harry says nothing, just keeps his head pointed at Ron in hopes that his blank stare will tell Ron that this idea is stupid.

“C’mon, Harry,” Ron whispers. “It’ll be fine. I know how to fly it  _ and  _ imagine how cool it would be?”

“How cool — Ronald! No! This is  _ stupid.” _

“Do you have a better idea?”

Harry furrows his eyebrows.  _ Does he?  _ He doesn’t. His mind is drawing a blank. There’s definitely  _ something  _ better than flying a car to Hogwarts but he can’t think of what.

Harry sighs and Ron laughs triumphantly. 

“C’mon, then,” Ron shoves his elbows into Harry’s hand and Harry laughs despite himself. “We need to get going — before we lose the train.”

They head back to the car, Harry grumbling under his breath the whole time, and put their luggage back inside. They clamber in the front seat and Ron starts the car with a series of taps with his wand on the dashboard. He checks to make sure nobody is watching and then presses the button that turns them invisible. He raises the car higher and higher and Harry leans on the door, frowning. 

Harry jumps when there’s a sudden pop, “What was that?”

“The booster — it’s faulty — uh-oh,” Ron mumbles. “Hold on.”

Harry grips the door tightly when Ron suddenly presses on the accelerator, shooting them upward. He slows down after a moment and Harry huffs, “Now what?”

“We need to see the train to know what direction to go in,” Ron says.

“Well, I’ll be no help there. Here, dip back down again, I’ll listen — quickly —”

The car plummets and Harry rolls his window down, sticking his head out while Ron tries to catch sight of the train.

“Ron! I hear it! Over there!”

“Due north,” Ron says after a moment. “Okay, we’ll just have to check on it every half hour or so — hold on —”

He shoots back up towards what Harry assumes is the clouds. After a minute, Ron slows down slightly and says, “All we’ve got to worry about now are airplanes.”

A laugh bubbles out of Harry and that sets off Ron and for a long few minutes, they just laugh.

The fun and the adrenaline, though, wears off after a while. The toffee they had found in the glove compartment leaves them longing for a drink and the car has become unbearably hot, even after they take their jumpers off. Harry’s bad mood about the situation comes back and Ron, not wanting to get into an unnecessary fight or make his mood worse, isn’t talking anymore. Though, if Harry’s honest with himself, Ron’s voice might do wonders in making his mood better. He, of course, doesn’t say this to Ron because that’s  _ weird  _ and he shouldn’t be thinking like that.

After the most recent train check, the engine begins to whine when they shoot back into the clouds. Harry’s nerves shoot up along with the car.

“It’s probably just tired,” Ron says, his voice not convincing at all. “It’s never been this far before…”

They both pretend not to notice the whining getting louder and louder as they continue on. Harry pulls his jumper back on, the air now more icy than hot. 

The next train check has Ron yelling about how he can see Hogwarts, his voice trembling with nerves as the engine begins to shudder.

“Nearly there,” this seems to be directed more at the car than Harry. “Nearly there…”

Harry feels the car begin to lose speed and grip the door handle tightly, “Ron…”

“Come on,” Ron pats the dashboard encouragingly. “Nearly there, come on.”

The car begins to cough and sputter and wobble and Harry, in his state of fright, reaches over and grips Ron’s arm. Ron is too nervous to try and comfort him.

“Come  _ on,”  _ he puts his foot down and after a loud clunk and cough, the engine dies completely.

“Oh no,” Harry moans into the silence.

The car begins to drop. Harry’s nails are digging into Ron’s arm but Ron definitely isn’t concerned about that.

Harry feels the car lurch a few times as curses fly from Ron’s mouth, his wand banging against the dashboard to try and get it to stop. He suddenly stops and then a small,  _ “Fuck,”  _ leaves him that would have Harry laughing in any other situation.

With a loud crunch, the car comes to a stop. Harry flies forward and bangs his head against the windshield, a groan leaving him that is much quieter than Ron’s loud, despairing moan.

“Are you okay?” Harry says quickly, settling back into his seat and reaching back to try and calm Hedwig. 

“My wand,” Ron says shakily. “My wand…”

Before Harry can tell him that it’s fine and before Harry can ask what the hell they just landed in, something hits Harry’s side of the car and sends him flying into Ron’s lap just as the roof is hit.

“Ron, what’s happ —”

Ron gasps and Harry screams as more and more things begin hitting the car.

“Ron!” Harry shouts.

“It’s a tree!” Ron shouts back.

“A tree?”

Ron and Harry are suddenly thrown back to the other side of the car. 

“We’re done for!”

Harry wraps his arms around Ron, willing his panic away. If he’s going to die, he wants to do it with a coherent mind.

With a jolt, though, the car springs to life and Harry’s head shoots up from where he had buried it in Ron’s back.

_ “Reverse!”  _ he shouts and the car listens, lurching backward and away from the tree.

“That,” Ron pants after the car stops, “was close. Well done, car —”

The car, it seems, has had enough of them. Harry’s door opens and his seat tips sideways. Harry and Ron fall onto the ground in a clump of limbs and a few thumps tell them that the car has ejected their trunks too. Harry hears Hedwig’s cage squeak open and she squawks at them before flying away.

The car begins to drive away and Ron scrambles out of Harry’s grip, shouting, “No! Come back! Dad’ll kill me!”

Harry stays on the ground, catching his breath and calming himself down.

“Can you  _ believe  _ our luck?” Ron mumbles. “Of all the trees we could’ve landed in, we had to choose the one that hits back.”

Harry snorts, rolling over and pushing himself off the ground. He shakes the dirt from his hair and asks, “Where are we?”

“Not far from the doors,” Ron says. “C’mon… here’s your trunk… we should get to the feast.”

“The feast? I say Madam Pomfrey,” Harry says, taking his trunk from Ron and following him up the hill. “I hit my head really hard.”

“We’re still walking,” Ron says. “Do  _ you  _ want to explain what just happened to  _ Madam Pomfrey?” _

Harry sighs, “I still can’t believe you —”

“Oh, bugger off,” Ron mutters. “We’re alive and we’re at school.”

Harry rolls his eyes.

They get up the hill and Ron freezes. Harry bumps into him and rears back, his temper reaching its limits.

“Snape,” Ron squeaks.

Harry’s curses die on his tongue.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise?” the familiar, unwelcome voice of Professor Snape drawls. 

Harry bites his tongue. No need to get smart and worsen their inevitable punishment.

“Follow me,” Snape says sharply.

Harry grips Ron’s wrist, dropping his trunk. Ron drops his trunk as well and reaches over with his other hand, giving the hand attached to his wrist a squeeze as he starts to walk. 

They follow Snape into the entrance hall and down into the dungeons, all the way to his office. 

The door shuts behind them and Harry tightens his grip on Ron’s wrist, Ron’s hand — that had stayed where it was after he squeezed Harry’s hand the first time — does the same. 

“So,” Snape begins, “the train isn’t good enough for the famous Harry Potter and his faithful sidekick, Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a  _ bang, _ did we, boys?”

Harry pushes his urge to say that Ron isn’t his sidekick down and instead says, “No, sir, the barrier at King’s Cross, it —”

“Silence!” Snape says, as if he didn’t just ask them a question. “What have you done with the car?”

Harry blinks.  _ How did he know about the car?  _

Harry gets his answer a second later.

“You were seen,” Snape says. There’s a rustle of paper and then he begins reading, “Two Muggles in London, convinced they saw an old car flying over the Post Office tower… at noon in Norfolk, Mrs. Hetty Bayliss, while hanging out her washing… Mr. Angus Fleet, of Peebles, reported to police… Six or seven Muggles in all. I believe your father works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office?” Ron gulps. “Dear, dear… his own son…”

Harry feels his heart drop. If anyone were to find out Mr Weasley bewitched the car…

“I noticed, in my search of the park, that considerable damage seems to have been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow,” Snape goes on.

“That tree did more damage to  _ us  _ than we —” Ron blurts out. 

_ “Silence!”  _ Snape says again. “Most unfortunately, you are not in my House and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who  _ do  _ have that happy power. You will wait here.”

Snape leaves, the door slamming behind him. Ron squeezes his hand again. If Harry were of more sound mind, he might be embarrassed at the fact that the two are basically holding hands, but he has more pressing things on his mind right now than that. 

Ten minutes of silence pass and Snape returns, Professor McGonagall in tow. The door shuts and the fire roars to life.

“Sit.”

Harry and Ron separate reluctantly and sit down in the chairs by the fire. 

“Explain.”

Ron launches into an explanation of what happened, starting with the barrier refusing to let them through.

“— so we had no choice, Professor, we couldn’t get on the train.”

“Why didn’t you send us a letter by owl? I believe  _ you  _ have an owl?” Professor McGonagall says coldly.

Harry  _ knew  _ there was a better way to go about getting to school. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

“I didn’t realize —”

“You didn’t realize,” Professor McGonagall repeats blankly. 

There’s a knock on the door. Harry jumps and Ron’s hand flies to his wrist, squeezing it. Harry is thankful for the comfort. 

Ron makes a noise in the back of his throat when the door opens and Harry frowns. 

There’s a moment of silence before a voice Harry so desperately wishes isn’t who he thinks it is says, “Please explain why you did this.”

Professor Dumbledore. 

Harry explains quietly and leaves out the fact that the car is Mr Weasley’s. He knows Dumbledore will see right through it but he doesn’t ask about the car so Harry never has to say. When Harry finishes, the room falls silent again. 

“We’ll go and get our stuff,” Ron mutters.

“What are you talking about, Weasley?” Professor McGonagall barks.

“Well, you’re expelling us, aren’t you?” Ron says.

“Not today, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore says and Harry feels instant relief. “But I must impress upon both of you the seriousness of what you have done. I will be writing to both your families tonight. I must also warn you that if you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you.”

The Dursleys won’t care, they’ll probably throw the letter into the trash as soon as it arrives, but Mrs and Mr Weasley… Harry can’t even imagine the anger.

Snape clears his throat, “Professor Dumbledore, these boys have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old and valuable tree — surely acts of this nature —”

“It will be for Professor McGonagall to decide on these boys’ punishments, Severus,” Dumbledore says calmly. “They are in her House and are therefore her responsibility. I must go back to the feast, Minerva, I’ve got to give out a few notices. Come, Severus, there’s a delicious-looking custard tart I want to sample —”

Snape and Dumbledore leave quickly and there’s a beat of silence before Professor McGonagall speaks.

“You’d better get along to the hospital wing, Weasley, you’re bleeding.”

“Not much,” Ron says quickly. “Professor, I wanted to watch my sister being Sorted —”

“The Sorting Ceremony is over,” Professor McGonagall says. “Your sister is also in Gryffindor.”

“Oh, good,” Ron mumbles.

“And speaking of Gryffindor —” Professor McGonagall begins but Harry quickly cuts her off with:

“Professor, when we took the car, term hadn’t started, so — so Gryffindor shouldn’t really have points taken from it — should it?” 

Professor McGonagall falls silent and for a second, Harry thinks he just solidified getting points taken, but then she begins to talk.

“I will not take any points from Gryffindor. But you will both get a detention.”

Harry thinks that is completely fair. 

“You will eat in here and then go straight up to your dormitory,” Professor McGonagall says. “I must also return to the feast.”

She leaves quickly. Harry and Ron stay where they are for a second, slightly shocked by how easy they got off, before Harry realizes that Ron is still holding him, his thumb rubbing a comforting pattern against the inside of his wrist. Harry clears his throat and Ron’s hand retracts quickly, “Uh, there’s — sandwiches.”

“Right.”

They stand up and cross over to the platter of food, grabbing what they want.

They don’t speak as they eat and once they eat all they wanted, they leave and start on their way to Gryffindor Tower.

“Password?” the Fat Lady asks when they reach the portrait hole.

“Er —”

Help arrives in the form of an angry Hermione, which is better than nothing, Harry supposes.

_ “There _ you are! Where have you  _ been? _ The most  _ ridiculous _ rumors — someone said you’d been expelled for crashing a flying  _ car —” _

“Well, we haven’t been expelled,” Harry says.

“You’re not telling me you  _ did _ fly here?” Hermione sounds almost as fierce and angry as Professor McGonagall.

“Skip the lecture,” Ron says, “and tell us the new password.”

“It’s ‘wattlebird,’” Hermione says impatiently, “but that’s not the point —”

She’s interrupted, though, but a storm of applause. The portrait had swung open when she said the password. Arms reach out and pull the two boys in, something that makes Harry’s face screw up in disgust.

“Brilliant!” Lee Jordan’s familiar voice yells. “Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people’ll be talking about that one for years —”

Fred and George push their way toward Harry and Ron and say together, “Why couldn’t we’ve come in the car, eh?”

“Got to get upstairs — bit tired,” Ron says, nudging Harry toward the stairs. Harry assumes this is to avoid Hermione and most likely Percy’s wrath.

“’Night,” Harry calls back to Hermione.

They gain peace once they reach the staircase. They head up quickly and reach their dorm.

Ron laughs a little when the door closes, “I know I shouldn’t’ve enjoyed that or anything, but —”

The dormitory door flies open again and their roommates clamber inside.

_ “Unbelievable!”  _ Seamus shouts.

“Cool,” Dean says.

“Amazing,” Neville mumbles, sounding awestruck.

Harry, despite his initial anger with the situation, can’t help it. He grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they held hands 😭😭😭 (not really, ron was just kinda squeezing the top of his hand but STILL) they're so cute i just ahahsgahag  
> again, happy birthday to the only person ever, harry james potter. he deserves everything and more.  
> anyway  
> the next chapter will be posted on monday, august 3rd  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	6. Gilderoy Lockhart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i need to put any trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

The morning, however, Harry goes back to being angry. Ron wisely doesn’t try to atone for his sins and when they sit down at breakfast and Hermione catches wind of Harry’s mood, she harrumphs but doesn’t say anything else. Harry can’t tell if she’s angry with him for being a hypocrite or if she agrees but is just more angry with him than he is as Ron.

And then, the mail comes. 

An owl, presumably Errol by Ron’s shout, lands in a jug of milk and splashes all of them with the beverage.

“Oh no.”

“It’s alright, he’s alive,” Hermione says and Harry snorts.

“Not that.  _ That.” _

“What?” Harry asks.

“She’s sent me a howler,” he whispers.

Harry can only guess what the letter does once opened. 

“You’d better open it, Ron,” Neville says quietly. “It’ll be worse if you don’t. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and… it was horrible.”

“What’s a howler?” Hermione asks. “Well, I guess that’s obvious…”

She doesn’t get an answer.

“Open it,” Neville says, trying to sound comforting. “It’ll all be over in a few minutes.”

A second later, Harry gets to experience first hand what exactly a howler does.

“— STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE —”

Harry rears back and covers his ears to try and dampen the noise.

“— LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED —”

Harry flinches at his name and screws his face up.

“— ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER’S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL  BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME.”

There’s a few moments of silence before a few students laugh and the chatter starts up again. Harry lowers his hands and swallows before clearing his throat and trying to act as if the yelling affected him only slightly and not as badly as it actually did.

He clears his throat again and then says, “I think that about sums it up. You’re forgiven.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Ron says dryly.

“Well, I don’t know what you expected, Ronald,” Hermione says sharply. She then sighs, “But yes, I suppose it did sum it up. I think I might send a thank-you to your mother.”

Harry smirks. 

“How kind of both of you.”

Harry laughs quietly and Hermione joins him a second later.

A few minutes later, Harry is handed his time-table. 

“Double Herbology with Hufflepuffs,” Ron says. “C’mon then…”

They leave the castle together, Hermione’s arm looped with Harry’s like always and Harry’s hand on Ron’s elbow like always. They reach the greenhouses and Harry is about to start up a conversation with his friends while they wait but a voice cuts him off.

“Oh, hello there! Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don’t want you running away with the idea that I’m better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels…”

Harry frowns. He sounds familiar but Harry has a bad habit of not listening to people he doesn’t deem important enough. He’ll have to do something about that with the ever-changing Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. 

“Greenhouse three today, chaps!” the voice of Professor Sprout says.

Harry perks up. There’s a tap on his shoulder and Harry detaches himself from Ron and Hermione and grips Neville’s elbow. Harry is glad he still gets to work with Neville during Herbology — he wouldn’t have gotten the grade he did on his exam without Neville’s help.

“Harry! I’ve been wanting a word — you don’t mind if he’s a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?” the other voice stops them. “That’s the ticket,” he grabs Harry’s arm and tugs him away from Neville. The door closes and Harry scowls. 

“Harry,” the voice says, clicking his tongue. “Harry, Harry, Harry.”

Harry raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

“When I heard — well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself.”

Harry still says nothing.

“Don’t know when I’ve been more shocked. Flying a car to Hogwarts! Well, of course, I knew at once why you’d done it. Stood out a mile. Harry, Harry,  _ Harry.” _

Harry opens his mouth to argue immediately. He only did it because his mind skipped over Hedwig being an option! Honestly, why won’t anybody let him explain?

“Gave you a taste for publicity, didn’t I?” the voice interrupts his argument before it even begins. “Gave you the  _ bug.  _ You got onto the front page of the paper with me and you couldn’t wait to do it again.”

_ Ah. Lockhart.  _ That’s why Harry brushed him away as insignificant, it’s because he  _ is  _ insignificant. Well, he is their new professor but Harry, after the stunt in Flourish and Blotts, thinks  _ Quirrell _ deserved it more than  _ Gilderoy Lockhart. _

“That’s not —”

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Lockhart interrupts him again and grasps his shoulder. Harry scowls again.  _ “I understand. _ Natural to want a bit more once you’ve had that first taste — and I blame myself for giving you that, because it was bound to go to your head — but see here, young man, you can’t start  _ flying cars _ to try and get yourself noticed. Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you’re older. Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking! ‘It’s all right for him, he’s an internationally famous wizard already!’ But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I’d say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven’t they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! I know, I know — it’s not quite as good as winning  _ Witch Weekly’s _ Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have — but it’s a  _ start, _ Harry, it’s a  _ start.” _

With that, the man walks away and leaves behind a bewildered and fuming Harry. Just  _ who  _ does he think he is? Harry wonders how much trouble it’ll be to find Fred and George — he needs  _ someone  _ who will listen to his rant.

He shakes his head and turns around, walking inside the greenhouse. Neville calls his name and Harry pushes Lockhart out of his mind, standing next to Neville and focusing solely on Herbology.

Today, it turns out, they’ll be repotting Mandrakes. After earning twenty points for answering questions (thanks to Hermione), Professor Sprout instructs them to grab a pair of earmuffs and to make sure they completely cover their ears. Neville hands Harry a pair and he snaps them on over his ears and frowns. He’s never had something block his hearing like this and he really doesn’t like the total sensory deprivation that it gives him. After a long minute or so, Neville taps Harry’s shoulder and Harry takes off his ear muffs quickly, already constructing the  _ can I please not do this  _ question in his mind as Professor Sprout explains why the ear muffs are necessary and the instructions on what they’re supposed to do. 

Once everyone breaks off into groups of four, Harry approaches her and asks if there’s something else he can do, seeing as he can’t really repot things if he can’t see the pot or the things he’s repotting and also he very much enjoys being able to hear. She happily takes him over to greenhouse four and allows him to help her water and feed some of the carnivorous plants inside it for the duration of the class with some other students who can’t have their hearing blocked or they begin to panic. 

Harry happily boasts to his sweaty and tired friends that he doesn’t need to go take a shower as they walk back up to the castle and he can  _ feel  _ their glares. 

In Transfiguration, they’re instructed to transfigure beetles into buttons and Harry is very happy to be able to do magic again and feel it coursing through his body. 

He ends up with a handful of buttons, only a few more than Hermione, while Ron ends up smelling like rotten eggs thanks to his broken wand engulfing him in smoke that smells like it each time he tried to transfigure his beetle. His bad mood thanks to this worsens when he sees Hermione and Harry’s perfect coat buttons at lunch.

Harry quickly changes the subject to asking about their next class.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Hermione says.

_ “Why _ have you outlined all Lockhart’s lessons in little hearts?” Ron demands and Harry laughs under his breath.

After they finish lunch, they head outside to get some fresh air during their break.

“Can I try this charm I found on you?” Harry pulls out his wand.

“What?” Ron says. “No — wait,  _ what  _ charm?”

“Well, I was wondering if there was a spell to replace cologne or perfume and I didn’t really find one but I found a cleaning spell —”

“When did you read this?”

Harry pauses, “In our spell book. It’s a second year spell, which is why I was shocked to find it but anyway — can I like, spell your shirt clean or something? Mione? I wanna try it!”   


Ron doesn’t answer and instead says, “Can we help you?”

“Oh, uh… I’m Colin Creevey,” a new voice says and Harry blinks. “I’m in Gryffindor, too. D’you think — would it be all right if — can I have a picture?”

Harry frowns, “A picture? With me?”

“So I can prove I’ve met you,” Colin explains. “I know all about you. Everyone’s told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you’ve still got a lightning scar on your forehead and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures’ll  _ move.” _ Colin takes in a shuddering breath and continues, “It’s __ _brilliant_ here, isn’t it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad’s a milkman, he couldn’t believe it either. So I’m taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it’d be really good if I had one of you, maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?”

Harry’s lip quirks against his will. He never thought about people wanting his autograph and normally, he’d scowl at them and tell them to piss off but Colin, unfortunately, has an adorably squeaky voice and Harry is weak. 

He opens his mouth but is interrupted by a voice that immediately makes his amusement die away,  _ “Signed photos? _ You’re giving out  _ signed photos, _ Potter?”

The scowl that seems so natural at this point crosses over Harry’s features.

“Everyone line up!” Malfoy yells. “Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!”

“No, I’m not,” Harry says through gritted teeth. “Shut up, Malfoy.”

“You’re just jealous,” Colin speaks up.

_ “Jealous?”  _ Malfoy repeats. “Of what? I’m quite content with being able to  _ see, _ thank you very much.”

“Eat slugs, Malfoy,” Ron says angrily.

“Be careful, Weasley,” Malfoy says. “You don’t want to start any trouble or your mummy’ll have to come and take you away from school.” He begins to mock Mrs Weasley’s words,  _ “If you put another toe out of line —” _

A few students laugh loudly at this.

“Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter,” Malfoy says. “It’d be worth more than his family’s whole house —”

There’s a rustle of movement that Harry’s assumes is Ron pulling out his wand but Hermione whispers, “Look out!” just in time for another voice Harry hates to begin speaking.

“What’s all this, what’s all this? Who’s giving out signed photos?”

Harry sighs and opens his mouth to tell him that  _ okay, maybe I was going to give one out, but  _ only  _ to Colin,  _ but an arm is thrown over his shoulder and Lockhart says loudly, “Shouldn’t have asked! We meet again, Harry!”

Harry’s lip curls in disgust and when he tries to get out of Lockhart’s grip, Lockhart just holds him tighter.

“Come on then, Mr. Creevey,” he says. “A double portrait, can’t do better than that, and we’ll  _ both _ sign it for you.”

The camera clicks just as the bell rings, signaling the start of afternoon classes. Lockhart begins walking with Harry still tucked into his side and desperately trying to wriggle his way out from under Lockhart’s arm.

“A word to the wise, Harry,” Lockhart tells him, “I covered up for you back there with young Creevey — if he was photographing me, too, your schoolmates won’t think you’re setting yourself up so much…”

Harry scowls again — he has a feeling he’ll be doing that a lot this year — and starts saying, “I hardly think —”

“Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn’t sensible — looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, to be frank,” Lockhart says, Harry’s arguments falling onto deaf ears. “There may well come a time when, like me, you’ll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but” — he laughs a little — “I don’t think you’re quite there yet.”

Lockhart finally lets Harry go and Harry yanks his robes straight before sticking his arms out stupidly so he can feel his surroundings and beginning to walk. He finds a desk and walks along the row until he reaches the one in the very back before he sits down. A second later, the rest of the class enters and Hermione and Ron sit on either side of Harry.

“You’re starting to look like Malfoy with that scowl,” Ron says and Harry scowls at the words, earning a laugh. “You’d better hope Creevey doesn’t meet Ginny, or they’ll be starting a Harry  Potter fan club.”

“Piss off,” Harry rams his heel into Ron’s shin and Ron laughs again. 

After a moment, Lockhart clears his throat and the class quiets down. 

“Me. Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of  _ Witch Weekly’s _ Most-Charming-Smile Award — but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by  _ smiling  _ at her!”

Nobody laughs.

Lockhart clears his throat again, “I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books — well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about — just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in —”

He gives them thirty minutes once he hands out the tests.

Harry begins to run his finger along the questions and frowns.

“Uh, Ron?” he whispers.

“No, it’s… it’s all about him,” Ron mumbles. “You’re reading correctly.”

Harry sets his quill down and pushes his test to the top of his desk. He is  _ not  _ answering questions like ‘What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?’

Harry completely zones out of the class, his mind most likely trying to make up for the absolutely painful situation he’s in, and comes back with a start when Lockhart says, “Now — be warned!”

Harry sits up straight.  _ Are they actually  _ learning  _ something? _

“It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.”

So, they  _ are  _ learning!

“I must ask you not to scream,” Lockhart says in a low, dramatic voice. “It might provoke them.”

There’s a pause before —

“Yes.  _ Freshly caught Cornish pixies.” _

And Seamus Finnigan promptly bursts out laughing. Harry snorts quietly at the sudden sounds filling the room — Seamus’ laughter, the rattling of a cage, the jabbering of high, shrill voices.

“Yes?” Lockhart says.

“Well, they’re not — they’re not very —  _ dangerous,  _ are they?” Seamus snickers.

“Don’t be so sure! Devilish tricky little blighters they can be! Right, then. Let’s see what you make of them!”

And suddenly, the noise picks up. Ron immediately pulls Harry under their desk.

“What the bloody hell just happened?” Harry says.

“He opened the cage!” Ron says incredulously. “We’ve had pixie infestations before — all they do is wreck stuff!”

Harry winces at a particularly loud crash and is glad that Ron pulled them under the desk.

As soon as the bell rings, everybody scrambles toward the exit and Hermione and Ron have almost pulled Harry out the door when they hear, “Well, I’ll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage.” 

With that, the door slams in their face.

“Did he just —”

“Can you  _ believe  _ him?” Ron interrupts Harry and confirms his suspicion. 

“He just wants to give us some hands-on experience,” Hermione says.

_ “Hands-on?”  _ Harry jumps back when a pixie bites the tip of his nose. “Hermione, he left a blind kid to deal with it, he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing.”

“Rubbish,” Hermione says sharply. “You’ve read his books — look at all those amazing things he’s done —”

Harry so desperately wants to ask her, the supposed brightest witch of their age, why she would  _ ever  _ think such a thing.

“Is there such a thing as suing in the Wizarding World?” Harry says dryly. “I could double my inheritance for this.”

Ron snickers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> colin: can i have a picture?  
> harry: ...you are the cutest human being i've ever met of fucking course  
> colin makes me soft and i'm absolutely giving him the love he deserves in his scenes.   
> also these kids are TWELVE so yes sir they will be cursing because twelve is Peak Bastard for most kids, it certainly was for me. harry WILL say fuck and ron has ALREADY said fuck and hermione will be very mad at them but then she will ALSO say fuck because we all had that one friend who refused to curse until suddenly they did.   
> also also harry being a nerd? asking to test spells out on his friends? Peak Neutral Good. but fear not, harry will pull out his Chaotic Evil when needed, as seen in previous scenes with one severus snape. no need to call me sir professor? oh you fucking bet i'm putting that line in and you can QUOTE ME ON THAT  
> i will be doing a 'scowl' count at the end of this book. i have written that word so many times and i will absolutely be counting how many. look forward to that  
> harry around lockhart is absolutely FERAL it's my favorite thing. lockhart be like 'h-' and harry immediately goes 'if you don't shut the FUCK up i WILL be committing a homicide' i'm so proud of him :')  
> anyway  
> the next chapter will be posted on wednesday, august 5th  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	7. M*dbl**ds and Murmurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> censored because we don't use slurs in this house :')
> 
> emetophobia warning; this is the chapter with the slugs :/  
> draco uses a slur and then i compare it to the n-word, which i'm not sure if that's offensive or not so if it is, please tell me so i can fix it!
> 
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Harry, over the next few days, instructs Ron to just yank him out of sight if Lockhart is near them and Ron does a wonderful job at doing just that. Colin walks up five or six times a day to say, “All right, Harry?” and Harry always gives him a smile and a, “Hello, Colin,” to satisfy him. He thinks it’s pretty amusing, both Colin and Ron being annoyed with him. 

Harry hasn’t made it up to Hedwig yet for the disastrous car ride and Harry thinks her anger is very justified and he hopes he won’t have to send letters anytime soon because she definitely won’t allow that to happen. Ron’s wand is still malfunctioning, if not getting worse, judging by the fact that it flew out of his hand and hit Professor Flitwick on Friday. So, besides Colin, Harry is pretty down on his luck, and he’s very happy for the weekend. 

That is, until he’s shaken awake on Saturday morning. 

“What?” he swats at the hands shaking him.

“Quidditch practice!” the familiar voice of Oliver Wood exclaims. “Come on!”

“Oliver, why? It’s so early,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes and sitting up nonetheless.

“Exactly,” Oliver says. “It’s part of our new training program. Come on, let’s go. None of the other teams have started training yet; we’re going to be first off the mark this year —” 

Harry yawns but climbs out of bed.

“Good man,” Oliver says. Harry can almost hear his smile. It’s almost infectious but Harry is too tired to smile back. His Quidditch robes are thrust into his arms, “Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes. Unless — want me to walk with you? It’s been a while since you’ve had to walk to the pitch.”

Harry blinks and hopes it’s too dark for Oliver to see his face heating up, “Oh, uh… sure. Thanks, Oliver.”

He gets a clap on the shoulder and is instructed to change quickly. Once finished, his broom is placed in his hands and Oliver takes hold of his shoulder, steering him out of the dorm and down the stairs.

“Harry!” Colin’s now familiar voice says as he runs up behind them. 

Oliver doesn’t stop walking and Colin is eager to follow.

“Morning, Colin,” Harry says. 

“Morning! So, I was wondering — I’ve just had this developed and well, could you sign it?”

Oliver huffs a laugh and Harry cracks a smile, “Here’s the thing, Colin: if I start giving out autographs to one person, everybody’s going to want one, and I like you, but I don’t like a lot of other people. So, I would, but it wouldn’t be fair for me to only give you one and then ignore everybody else.”

“That… makes sense,” Colin mutters. “Oh well, I think my dad will just like any old moving photo — I know I would, because I  _ do.  _ Anyway, where are you guys headed? Oh! You’re Oliver Wood, you’re the Quidditch Captain! Are you having practice?”

“Yes. Feel free to come watch after breakfast, I’m sure Harry’s friends will,” Oliver says politely.

Harry snorts quietly. 

“Brilliant,” Colin breathes. “I will!” 

With that, he scurries off to most likely get some food before running to watch them practice.

Oliver takes his hand off Harry’s shoulder and walks next to him instead, allowing Harry to take hold of his elbow. “What was funny?”

“Hm? Oh, Ron thinks Colin is really annoying, so I’m hoping he’ll sit with Hermione and him,” Harry grins.

“Ah, well, if that’s the case, I very much hope he sits next to him,” Oliver says. “If only because Percy will get a kick out of it.”

“Percy?” Harry raises his eyebrows.

“He’ll be coming to watch after breakfast too and then when we get back to our dorm, he’ll criticize every little thing Fred, George, and I did wrong. It’s our system.”

Harry hums, “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

They exit the castle as Oliver responds, “Uh, yeah, we are. He’s my… best friend. Opposites attract, I suppose.”

Harry wisely decides not to ask about the hesitance before ‘best friend’ and instead just asks about what it’s like being best friends with Perfect Percy and that allows Oliver to begin rambling. The talk about Percy continues all the way to the locker rooms, which is where Oliver shakes off whatever mindset talking about Percy got him into and gets into his usual serious and competitive one. Harry is pulled onto the bench next to Angelina once inside and gets tucked into her side as she leans heavily on him and tries to stay awake.

“All right, Angie?” Harry smirks.

“You’re bloody warm,” she mutters. “Fucking furnace. Shut up.”

Harry laughs.

Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet arrive together and once they sit, Oliver begins to talk.

“Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference…”

He begins to drone on and on about new tactics and such. Angelina goes limp and Harry is close to following suit. 

Both of them jerk awake when Oliver loudly says, “So.” He pauses and wakes until they're all awake and then clears his throat, “Is that clear? Any questions?”

“I’ve got a question, Oliver,” George says. “Why couldn’t you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?” 

There’s a tense beat of silence.

“Now, listen here, you lot,” he says briskly. “We should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We’re easily the best team. But unfortunately — owing to circumstances beyond our control —”

Harry shifts and Angelina snorts into his shoulder. 

Oliver takes a deep breath, “So this year, we train harder than ever before… Okay, let’s go and put our new theories into practice!”

He leaves the locker room and everybody follows, yawning and wishing they could be in bed. 

Once out of the field, Ron’s voice shouts from up above, “Aren’t you finished yet?”

“Haven’t even started,” Harry says. “Wood’s been teaching us new moves.”

Ron groans loudly and Harry laughs before mounting his broom and kicking off. The cool air whipping against his face wakes him up fully and he sighs happily.

“Oi, Harry, catch up!” Fred yells as he soars past.

Harry immediately takes up the challenge and they begin to race. 

“What’s that funny clicking noise?” Fred calls as they hurtle around a corner.

Harry listens and recognizes the clicking of a camera, “First year. Colin Creevey, he’s a big fan.”

Fred and George laugh loudly and Harry rolls his eyes. They suddenly stop and then groan simultaneously.

“Wood! Slytherins on the field!” George yells.

There’s an outraged shout of, “Are you fucking kidding me?” that Harry snorts at before following Fred and George to the ground.

“Flint!” Oliver hisses. “This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!”

Flint attempts to sound genial as he responds but it falls flat, “Plenty of room for us all, Wood.”

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie land on the ground next to Harry, Fred, and George. 

“But I booked the field!” Oliver says. “I booked it!”

“Ah,” Flint sounds amused. “But I’ve got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape.  _ ‘I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.’” _

“You’ve got a new Seeker?” Oliver says, immediately distracted. “Where?”

There’s a rustle of movement before Fred says, “Aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?”

Harry scowls.  _ Of course Malfoy is the new Seeker! _

“Funny you should mention Draco’s father,” Flint says, a smug tone overtaking his amused one. “Let me show you the generous gift he’s made to the Slytherin team.”

Harry listens to the small surprised sounds made by his teammates and furrows his eyebrows.

“Very latest model. Only came out last month,” Flint says carelessly. Harry frowns. “I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps… sweeps the board with them.”

Harry can’t decide on a insult and just as he does, Flint interrupts him.

“Oh, look. A field invasion.”

“What’s happening?” Ron’s voice asks, now much closer to Harry. “Why aren’t you playing? And what’s  _ he _ doing here?”

“I’m the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley,” Malfoy says smugly. “Everyone’s just been admiring the brooms my father’s bought our team. Or, almost everyone.”

Harry scoffs. 

“Good, aren’t they?” Malfoy says, ignoring Harry to continue teasing Ron. “But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them.”

The Slytherin team laughs loudly. Harry scowls again.

Hermione speaks up sharply, “At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to _ buy _ their way in.  _ They _ got in on pure talent.”

“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood.”

Harry knows this must be bad, judging by the reaction it gets. Alicia shrieks,  _ “How dare you!”,  _ Ron yells, “You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy!”, and Fred and George lunge forward. A loud bang echoes through the stadium and a body lands on the grass.

“Ron! Are you okay?” Hermione squeals. Harry crouches down and jumps back when Ron suddenly belches and something… squeaky and squishy lands somewhere. 

The Slytherin team begins to laugh again.

“What’s happening?” Harry says, slightly panicked.

“I-I don’t know,” Hermione mutters. “Let’s get him to Hagrid’s. Grab his arm.”

Harry listens and helps Ron stand up.

“What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can’t you?” Colin now joins them. Ron gives a huge heave and Harry grimaces at the sound. “Oooh. Can you hold him still, Harry?”

“Not now, Colin,” Harry grits.

They get to Hagrid’s quickly but just as they reach the hut, the door opens. Hermione squeaks and that’s all Harry needs to know that it’s Lockhart who just left Hagrid’s. He pulls Hermione and Ron around the corner of Hagrid’s hut and presses himself against the wall.

“It’s a simple matter if you know what you’re doing!” Lockhart says loudly. “If you need help, you know where I am! I’ll let you have a copy of my book. I’m surprised you haven’t already got one — I’ll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, goodbye!”

Once he can’t hear Lockhart’s footsteps anymore, he pulls Hermione and Ron back around the corner and knocks urgently on Hagrid’s door.

“Bin wonderin’ when you’d come ter see me — come in, come in — thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again —”

Hermione explains the situation quickly as they lower Ron into a chair. Apparently, he’s just not puking, but puking slugs because his spell backfired onto himself. 

“Better out than in,” Hagrid says cheerfully. “Get ’em all up, Ron.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything to do except wait for it to stop,” Hermione says as Harry begins to rub Ron’s back comfortingly. “That’s a difficult curse to work at the best of times, but with a broken wand —” 

“What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?” Harry asks, trying to steer the topic away from Ron’s current predicament. 

“Givin’ me advice on gettin’ kelpies out of a well,” he growls. “Like I don’ know. An’ bangin’ on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I’ll eat my kettle.”

Hermione speaks up, “I think you’re being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job —” 

“He was the  _ on’y _ man for the job,” Hagrid corrects as Ron coughs wetly. Harry isn’t sure if him rubbing Ron’s back is helping at all but he doesn’t stop. “An’ I mean the  _ on’y _ one. Gettin’ very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren’t too keen ter take it on, see. They’re startin’ ter think it’s jinxed. No one’s lasted long fer a while now. So tell me,” Hagrid changes the subject easily. “Who was he tryin’ ter curse?”

“Malfoy called Hermione something — it must’ve been really bad, because everyone went wild,” Harry answers.

“It  _ was _ bad,” Ron says hoarsely. “Malfoy called her the m-word, Hagrid —”

He cuts himself off with a heave.

“He didn’!” Hagrid growls.

“He did,” Hermione says. “But I don’t know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course —” 

“It’s about the most insulting thing he could think of,” Ron says. “The m-word’s a really foul name for someone who is muggleborn. There are some wizards — like Malfoy’s family — who think they’re better than everyone else because they’re pureblood.” He gives a small burp but the worst of the slug attack seems to have passed. “I mean, the rest of us know it doesn’t make any difference at all. Look at Neville — he’s pureblood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up.”

“An’ they haven’t invented a spell our Hermione can’ do,” Hagrid says proudly.

“It’s a disgusting thing to call someone,” Ron continues. “Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It’s ridiculous. Most wizards these days are halfblood anyway. If we hadn’t married Muggles we’d’ve died out.”

He let out a retch and Harry winces.

“Why are you calling it ‘the m-word’?” Hermione asks. 

Ron coughs. “Because I’m not  _ saying  _ it! It’s horrible,  _ vile.” _

“Racist,” Harry adds. “Like the n-word.”

“Oh,” Hermione understands quickly when Harry says that. She gasps then, “Oh my  _ god!  _ That’s horrible!”

“Yeah, it is,” Ron says weakly.

“Well, I don’ blame yeh fer tryin’ ter curse him, Ron,” Hagrid says. “Bu’ maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. ’Spect Lucius Malfoy would’ve come marchin’ up ter school if yeh’d cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble”

Harry frowns, “Well, there’s nothing much worse than puking slugs.”

“Yeh, tha’s true,” Hagrid agrees. “Harry,” he suddenly says. “Gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I’ve heard you’ve bin givin’ out signed photos. How come I haven’t got one?”

Harry sighs, “I have  _ not  _ been giving out signed photos, I’m not that stupid. If Lockhart is still spreading that around —”

Hagrid’s laugh cuts him off and he slumps back, his hand still rubbing Ron’s back.

“I’m on’y jokin’,” he says. “I knew yeh hadn’t really. I told Lockhart yeh didn’ need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin’.” 

“Bet he didn’t like that,” Harry says,

“Don’ think he did,” Hagrid says. “An’ then I told him I’d never read one o’ his books an’ he decided ter go. Treacle toffee, Ron?” he adds.

“No thanks,” Ron mumbles. “Better not risk it.” 

“Come an’ see what I’ve bin growin’,” Hagrid says after a moment. 

They all head outside and Hermione makes a surprised noise, “Whoa. Those are some  _ big  _ pumpkins.”

“Gettin’ on well, aren’t they?” Hagrid says happily. “Fer the Halloween feast… should be big enough by then.” 

“What’ve you been feeding them?” Harry asks. He’s always okay with learning new ways to care for plants.

“Well, I’ve bin givin’ them — you know — a bit o’ help —” 

Harry falters. Well, he can’t magic Aunt Petunia’s garden into something beautiful or he’ll get expelled just like Hagrid did. Except Harry doesn’t know what got Hagrid expelled so maybe he’s not the best comparison…

“An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?” Hermione says, sounding both amused and disapproving at the same time, seeing as Hagrid isn’t allowed to do magic. “Well, you’ve done a good job on them.” ‘

“That’s what yer little sister said,” Hagrid says to Ron. “Met her jus’ yesterday. Said she was jus’ lookin’ round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin’ she might run inter someone else at my house.” Harry knows this is directed at him. “If yeh ask me, she wouldn’ say no ter a signed —” 

“Oh, shut up,” Harry grumbles. Ron snorts.

Hermione informs them that it’s almost lunch time and Harry is eager to get up to the castle and eat. They say goodbye to Hagrid and walk up to the castle.

Just as they step inside the entrance hall, Professor McGonagall stops them. 

“There you are, Potter — Weasley. You will both do your detentions this evening.”

“What’re we doing, Professor?” Ron asks. 

_ “You _ will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch,” Professor McGonagall says. “And no magic, Weasley — elbow grease.”

Ron lets out a strangled groan that makes Harry smirk. His smirk quickly disappears when Professor McGonagall continues.

“And you, Potter, will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail.”

“Oh n — Professor, can’t I go and do the trophy room, too?” Harry says desperately. 

“Certainly not,” she says. “Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o’clock sharp, both of you.”

Both Harry and Ron eat lunch in a gloomy state.

“Filch’ll have me there all night,” Ron says. “No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I’m no good at Muggle cleaning.” 

“I’d swap anytime,” Harry says. “Muggle cleaning is my specialty. Answering Lockhart’s fan mail… I can barely write as it is… He’ll be a nightmare…”

Hermione harrumphs. Harry and Ron ignore her.

When eight finally rolls around, Harry trudges to Lockhart’s classroom, gritting his teeth and knocking. He gets assigned to the envelopes and Harry finds it’s not as hard to address them as he thought it would be, he just hopes that Lochart’s fans enjoy chicken scratch on their envelopes.

It seems to go on forever and Lockhart  _ never stops talking.  _ Harry barely listens, so when a voice that definitely isn’t Lockahrt begins to speak, he listens tentatively.

_ “Come… come to me… Let me rip you… Let me tear you… Let me kill you…”  _

He jerks and hears his inkwell go crashing to the ground. _ “What?” _

“I know!” Lockhart says. “Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!”

“No! That voice!”

“Sorry?” Lockhart says, sounding puzzled. “What voice?” 

“That — that voice that said — didn’t you hear it?”

“What  _ are _ you talking about, Harry? Perhaps you’re getting a little drowsy? Great Scott — look at the time! We’ve been here nearly four hours! I’d never have believed it — the time’s flown, hasn’t it?”

Harry doesn’t answer, too busy straining his ears to try and hear the voice again, except it’s only Lockhart and nothing else. Feeling slightly dazed and more than a little confused, Harry leaves and heads back to the common room. The route is familiar, thank god, and he only has to reach out and touch the wall a few times to make sure he doesn’t get lost. He walks up the stairs cautiously and manages not to step on any vanishing ones. Finally, the portrait hiding the Gryffindor common room calls out.

“Is that you, Potter? Ah, this way, dear.”

“Thanks,” Harry stops in front of her.

“Anytime, darling.”

“Wattlebird.”

He climbs inside and heads upstairs to his dorm. He changes into his pajamas and lays down, waiting for Ron to get back. 

Finally, after what feels like centuries, Ron enters the dorm.

“My muscles have all seized up,” he groans. “Fourteen times he made me buff up that Quidditch Cup before he was satisfied. And then I had another slug attack all over a Special Award for Services to the School. Took ages to get the slime off… How was it with Lockhart?”

Harry repeats what he heard quietly, so as to not wake up Seamus, Dean, or Neville.

“And Lockhart said he couldn’t hear it?” Ron says. “D’you think he was lying? But I don’t get it — even someone invisible would’ve had to open the door.” 

“I know,” Harry mumbles, laying back down. “I don’t get it either.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oliver and harry being friends makes me happy but y'know what makes me happier? oliver and percy dating :')  
> angelina and harry oh my god i love them they make me HAPPY  
> ron calling it 'the m-word' because he knows he shouldn't say it because he isn't muggleborn? amazing. spectacular. i've never met a better man than ronald billius weasley.  
> also ginny having a crush on harry and harry just not understanding why he thinks dating ginny is disgusting? i love one (1) oblivious boy  
> the fat lady helping harry get to her portrait? we love to see it  
> the basilisk being generally terrifying and harry thinking he's going insane? mmmmmmmmm i love it  
> anyway  
> i am going to arizona for a funeral on thursday so i'm not sure if i'll have chapter 8 out on friday. if not, i'll update it when we get back home :)  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	8. The Deathday Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmaoooo so as it turns out, we're leaving NEXT week to go to arizona so y'all get three new chapters before the teeny tiny hiatus :)
> 
> draco says the m-word again :( and hermione mentions seeing blood 
> 
> also this chapter is almost purely copy and pasted from the actual deathday party chapter so :/
> 
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

October arrives and with it comes colder weather. Madam Pomfrey is up to her shoulders in work because of all the kids getting colds and the flu. Harry gets a cold in the middle of October thanks to Oliver’s nonstop Quidditch practice and ends up laying dramatically across Hermione and Ron’s laps as smoke billows out of his ears for hours on end thanks to the Pepperup Potion he took. Hermione and Ron are not amused.

A few days before Halloween, Harry hears the familiar voice of Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor ghost as he makes his way back to the common room, soaking wet and covered in mud from Quidditch practice. “… don’t fulfill their requirements… half an inch, if that…” 

“Hello, Nick,” Harry says politely. 

“Hello, hello,” Sir Nicholas sounds startled. “You look troubled, young Potter.”

“You sound a bit troubled,” Harry remarks.

“Ah, a matter of no importance… It’s not as though I really wanted to join… Thought I’d apply, but apparently I ‘don’t fulfill requirements’ —” 

Harry hears the bitterness under his airy tone and Harry now regrets stopping to say hi.

“But you would think, wouldn’t you,” he suddenly blurts, “that getting hit forty-five times in the neck with a blunt axe would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?”

Harry blinks, “Certainly.”

“I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean, it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However —” Sir Nicholas begins to read a letter:

_ “ ‘We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted company with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback HeadJuggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfill our requirements. With very best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.’ ”  _

“Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my neck on, Harry! Most people would think that’s good and beheaded, but oh, no, it’s not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore.” 

Sir Nicholas takes a few deep breaths and when he speaks again, he sounds much more calm and not as furious, “So — what’s bothering you? Anything I can do?”

“No,” Harry shakes his head. “Not unless you know where we can get seven free Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones for our match against Sly —” 

The rest of his sentence is drowned out by meowing. Harry sighs heavily. He can only guess who’s cat is rubbing itself against Harry’s legs.

“You’d better get out of here, Harry,” Sir Nicholas says quickly. “Filch isn’t in a good mood — he’s got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He’s been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place —”

“Right,” Harry begins to walk again but he’s too late. Filch has already shown up, wheezing and out of breath.

“Filth!” he shouts when he finally regains his breath. “Mess and muck everywhere! I’ve had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, Potter!”

Harry, resigned to his fate, waves in the general direction he assumes Sir Nicholas is in before beginning to follow Filch.

He stands awkwardly in Filch’s office as Filch clatters around, mumbling furiously under his breath. He finally gets a hold of what he needs and begins to talk in Harry’s direction.

_ “Name…  _ Harry Potter.  _ Crime…” _

“It was only a bit of mud!” Harry protests.

“It’s only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it’s an extra hour scrubbing!” Filch shouts and Harry flinches, taking a step back.

_ “Crime… _ befouling the castle…  _ suggested sentence…”  _

Harry waits with bated breath to hear his punishment but a sudden  _ bang!  _ distracts Filch.

“PEEVES!” Filch roars. “I’ll have you this time, I’ll have you!” 

And without another word, he rushes out of his office.

Harry stands where he’s at for a moment, wondering if he should wait for Filch to get back. He ultimately decides that it’s not worth it and ducks out of his office, using his broom to avoid hitting anything.

He makes it to a set of stairs when he hears Sir Nicholas calling his name.

“Harry! Harry! Did it work?”

Harry stops and turns around, “That was you?”

“I persuaded Peeves into dropping a cabinet near Filch’s office,” Sir Nicholas sounds very proud. “You’re headed in the wrong direction. This way.”

Harry blushes but quickly follows Sir Nicholas, “I’ll just have to avoid him for a while. Once he finds out I sneaked out while he was gone, he’ll do anything to get me in trouble.”

“Hm, yes, that would be smart. I’ll alert the portraits so they can warn you if Filch is headed your way.”

“Thanks, Nick,” Harry smiles. A thought pops into his head. “I wish I could do something for you about the Headless Hunt.”

Harry suddenly walks right through Sir Nicholas and groans quietly at the chill that spreads through his body. Sir Nicholas ignores that and begins speaking excitedly, “But there  _ is _ something you could do for me. Harry — would I be asking too much — but no, you wouldn’t want —” 

“What is it?” Harry asks.

“Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth deathday,” Sir Nicholas says proudly.

“Oh,” Harry says, not sure how to respond to that. “Right.” 

“I’m holding a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would be such an  _ honor _ if you would attend. Mr Weasley and Miss Granger would be most welcome, too, of course — but I daresay you’d rather go to the school feast?”

Harry blinks, “I’ll come, I suppose.”

“My dear boy! Harry Potter, at my deathday party! And… do you think you could  _ possibly _ mention to Sir Patrick how  _ very _ frightening and impressive you find me?” 

“Of — of course,” Harry says, even though Harry thinks Sir Nicholas is the least frightening thing he’s ever met.

Later, once Sir Nicholas has deposited Harry at the common room and floated away, Harry tells Hermione and Ron about the invitation.

“A deathday party?” Hermione says excitedly. “I bet there aren’t many living people who can say they’ve been to one of those — it’ll be fascinating!” 

“Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?” Ron mumbles, more than a little grumpy thanks to his potions homework. “Sounds dead depressing to me…”

When Halloween finally rolls around, Harry is deeply regretting ever stopping and talking to Sir Nicholas. Not only did it almost land him in detention, he now has to miss out on the Halloween feast to go to a deathday party he doesn’t even want to go to. Hermione is very adamant that he upholds his promise, though, so at seven o’clock, the three of them head away from the Great Hall and toward the dungeons.

The closer they get, the colder it gets, and just as Harry tugs Hermione and Ron closer to steal some of their body heat, he hears what sounds like nails scratching a chalkboard. 

“Is that supposed to be  _ music?”  _ Ron whispers. Harry grimaces.

“My dear friends,” Sir Nicholas says when they finally reach him. “Welcome, welcome… so pleased you could come…”

Harry, who can’t see the amazing sight Hermione and Ron are gaping at, only notices how much colder it gets when they step inside. He shivers and then says wryly, “Shall we have a look around?”

“Do you want us to tell you what we see?” Hermione says, her body twisting this way and that as they begin to walk. “It’s incredible, Harry. I’ve never seen so many ghosts in one place before.”

“Just don’t let me walk through anyone and I’ll be fine,” Harry mutters.

They continue to walk, Ron and Hermione pointing out small things they find interesting, until Hermione suddenly stops, causing Harry and Ron to stop as well, seeing as they’re all connected by at least one limb.

“Oh, no. Turn back, turn back, I don’t want to talk to Moaning Myrtle —” 

“Who?” Harry asks as Hermione pulls them away quickly.

“She haunts one of the toilets in the girls’ bathroom on the first floor,” Hermione says.

“She haunts a _ toilet?” _ Harry says.

“Yes. It’s been out-of-order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it’s awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you.”

“Look, food,” Ron says, stopping Hermione from continuing. He directs them over to the table and then makes a noise of disgust. Harry pinches his nose and curls his lip in disgust. “Never mind.”

“I wonder… can you taste it when you do that?” Hermione asks.

“Almost,” a ghost answers sadly.

“I expect they’ve let it rot to give it a stronger flavor,” Hermione says.

“Can we move?” Harry says. “I feel sick.”

Just as they turn away, though, Hermione and Ron tug Harry back.

“Hello, Peeves,” Ron says cautiously.

Harry almost grimaces but stops himself.

“Nibbles?” Peeves says sweetly.

“No thanks,” Hermione says.

“Heard you talking about poor Myrtle,” Peeves says.  _ “Rude _ you was about poor Myrtle.” He takes a deep breath and yells, “OY! MYRTLE!” 

“Oh, no, Peeves, don’t tell her what I said, she’ll be really upset,” Hermione whispers frantically. “I didn’t mean it, I don’t mind her — er, hello, Myrtle.” 

“What?” a new voice says. 

“How are you, Myrtle?” Hermione says with false happiness. “It’s nice to see you out of the toilet.” 

Myrtle sniffs.

“Miss Granger was just talking about you —” Peeves mutters to Myrtle.

“Just saying — saying — how nice you look tonight,” Hermione says quickly.

There’s a beat of silence. “You’re making fun of me,” Myrtle says, her voice beginning to grow thick.

“No — honestly — didn’t I just say how nice Myrtle’s looking?” Hermione nudges Harry in the ribs painfully. 

Harry jumps to action. “Oh, yeah —” 

Ron follows suit. “She did —” 

“Don’t lie to me,” Myrtle gasps, now crying audibly. “D’you think I don’t know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!” 

“You’ve forgotten pimply,” Peeves says. 

Myrtle bursts into loud sobs and flees, Peeves following her and yelling,  _ “Pimply, pimply!” _

“Oh, dear,” Hermione mutters.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Sir Nicholas takes the place of Peeves and Myrtle. 

“Oh, yes,” they lie.

“Not a bad turnout,” Sir Nicholas says proudly. “The Wailing Widow came all the way up from Kent… It’s nearly time for my speech, I’d better go and warn the orchestra…” 

The orchestra, however, stops playing at that exact moment. A hunting horn sounds and the entire room falls silent.

“Oh, here we go,” Sir Nicholas mumbles.

The other ghosts suddenly begin to clap wildly and Harry winces. A few moments later, they all laugh and Harry frowns.

“Nick!” a ghost roars and Harry jumps. “How are you? Head still hanging in there?” 

“Welcome, Patrick,” Sir Nicholas says stiffly.

“Live ’uns!” Sir Patrick yells, doing something that causes everybody to laugh again.

“Very amusing,” Sir Nicholas says darkly. 

“Don’t mind Nick!” Sir Patrick shouts, his voice coming from a different place than before. “Still upset we won’t let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say — look at the fellow —” 

“I think,” Harry says quickly, “Nick’s very — frightening and — er —” 

“Ha!” Sir Patrick yells and Harry winces. “Bet he asked you to say that!” 

“If I could have everyone’s attention, it’s time for my speech!” Sir Nicholas says loudly.

“My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow…”

But it seems that nobody is listening, more focused on Sir Patrick and the other Headless Horsemen.

“I can’t stand much more of this,” Ron mumbles as the orchestra starts up again.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Harry agrees.

They manage to get out of the dungeon without a fuss and then they’re almost running back up to the Great Hall.

“Pudding might not be finished yet,” Ron says hopefully.

Harry is about to say something but that’s when he hears it.

_ “… rip… tear… kill…” _

It’s that same voice he heard during his detention with Lockhart.

He stumbles to a halt and strains his ears.

“Harry, what’re you — ?” 

“It’s that voice again — shut up a minute —” 

_ “… soo hungry… for so long…” _

“Listen!” Harry says urgently.

_ “… kill… time to kill…”  _

The voice is growing fainter and sounds as if it’s moved upward. 

“This way,” he tugs Ron and Hermione forward and begins walking quickly before breaking into a run, Ron and Hermione groaning loudly behind him as they struggle to catch up.

They make it to the floor first before Harry stops running.

“Harry, what’re we —”

“SHH!” 

From the floor above, he hears the voice: 

_ “… I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD!”  _

“It’s going to kill someone!” he shouts and takes off running. He almost trips on the stairs but manages to stay upright the entire time he runs around the second floor. He finally comes to a stop with Ron tugs on his arm and forces him to.

“Harry, what was that all about?” Ron pants. “I couldn’t hear anything…”

Hermione gasps suddenly,  _ “Look!” _

She grabs Harry’s arm and tugs him down the corridor.

They stop and, in a quivering voice, Ron says quietly,  _ “THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.” _

“Is that blood?” Hermione mutters.

“What’s that underneath it?” Ron says.

There’s a few moments of silence before Hermione gasps again, “It’s Mrs Norris!”

Harry’s eyes widen, “Is she… is she dead?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. Let’s get out of here,” Ron grabs Harry’s other arm and begins tugging him away from Mrs Norris and the message.

They’re too late. Just as Hermione finally moves, there’s a distant rumble, signaling the end of the feast. Hermione, Ron, and Harry all freeze. 

Just as quickly as the chatter picks up, it subsides until everybody is silent. Harry closes his eyes tightly, bracing himself for the outburst.

It’s Draco Malfoy who speaks.

“Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry getting sick and being dramatic about it? hermione and ron not being amused at all? we love to see it  
> harry being nice and immediately regretting it makes me happy. like he's so nice but he desperately wishes he wasn't lmao  
> harry? not finding out filch is a squib because he's not nosy? it's more likely than you think.  
> mrs norris :( she's just a cat she doesn't know any better and now she's petrified :'( she doesn't deserve this  
> draco is such an asshole lmao why do i love him as much as i do  
> anyway  
> the next chapter will be updated on august 10th!  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	9. The Writing on the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO  
> i lied  
> teeny tiny hiatus starts, uh, now  
> i won't be home on wednesday and then on friday, i'll be in arizona and i won't be back until sunday, SO that means no updates for the rest of the week after this one and maybe not on monday next week. i will be back tho so don't worry :)
> 
> binns' lecture is purely copy and pasted :)
> 
> if i need to put any trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

“What’s going on here? What’s going on?” 

Filch, no doubt attracted by Malfoy’s yell, appears. Harry inches his way behind Ron, trying to hide from sight.

“My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?” he shrieks and Harry winces.

_ “You!” _ he suddenly screeches and Harry just knows the words are directed at him.  _ “You! _ You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll —” 

_ “Argus!” _

Dumbledore shows up now, most likely flanked by other teachers.

After a moment of silence, Dumbledore says, “Come with me, Argus. You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger.”

“My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs — please feel free —” 

“Thank you, Gilderoy.”

Hermione carefully links her arm with Harry’s again and Ron’s wrist ends up in Harry’s hand instead of his elbow. Once inside Lockhart’s office, Hermione and Ron pull Harry onto some chairs and they all remain silent as Dumbledore examines Mrs. Norris.

Lockhart, however, isn’t silent and is babbling about past conquests, heard very clearly over Filch’s loud sobbing.

Finally, Dumbledore speaks up and cuts Lockhart off, “She’s not dead, Argus.”

“Not dead?” Filch repeats. “But why’s she all — all stiff and frozen?” 

“She has been Petrified,” Dumbledore says.

“Ah, I thought so,” Lockhart chirps, ignored by everybody.

“But how, I cannot say…”

“Ask _ him!” _ Filch shouts.

Next to Harry, Ron flinches. Harry squeezes his wrist.

“No second year could have done this,” Dumbledore says firmly. “It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced —” 

“He did it, he did it!” Filch insists. Harry frowns deeply. “You saw what he wrote on the wall! He must’ve — in my office — he must know —” Filch struggles here until he blurts, “He knows I’m a Squib!”

Harry blinks. He  _ didn’t  _ know that, actually. He doesn’t even know what a Squib  _ is.  _

“I never touched Mrs. Norris,” Harry says calmly, more than a little confused. “And I never saw anything in your office, I just left.”

“Rubbish!” Filch says and Harry sighs quietly. “He saw my Kwikspell letter!”

“I can’t even  _ see  _ —”

“If I might speak, Headmaster,” Snape’s voice suddenly speaks up. Harry flinches and resists the urge to glare in Snape’s direction. Does the man  _ have  _ to be so silent? “Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time… But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn’t he at the Halloween feast?”

Immediately, Hermione and Ron begin to recount the story of the deathday party. 

“But why not join the feast afterward?” Snape says when he’s had enough of their sputtering. “Why go up to that corridor?”

Hermione and Ron fall silent.

“Because,” Harry struggles to think of a good excuse. He doesn’t think ‘because I heard a voice that my friends couldn’t hear’ is a good thing. “We were tired,” he says weakly. “We wanted to go to bed.”

“Without any supper?” Snape says smugly. “I didn’t think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties.” 

“We weren’t hungry,” Ron says over his rumbling stomach, which proves Snape’s point.

“I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful,” Snape says and Harry suppresses a groan. “It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest.” 

“Really, Severus,” Professor McGonagall says sharply, “I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn’t hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong.” 

“I’d like to point out that I literally cannot see,” Harry says. It falls on deaf ears, seeing as nobody deigns to respond.

“Innocent until proven guilty, Severus,” Dumbledore finally says.

“My cat has been Petrified!” Filch shrieks. “I want to see some  _ punishment!” _

“We will be able to cure her, Argus,” Dumbledore says patiently. “Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris.” 

“I’ll make it,” Lockhart’s very unwelcome voice cuts in. “I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep —” 

“Excuse me,” Snape says coldly. “But I believe I am the Potions master at this school.” 

There’s a very awkward pause, in which Harry considers pointing out his disability again but decides not to.

“You may go,” Dumbledore finally tells them.

The trio wastes no time standing and leaving Filch’s office.

Instead of heading directly back to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione and Ron pull Harry into an abandoned classroom. 

Harry, after the door closes, immediately asks, “D’you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?” 

“No,” Ron says without hesitation. “Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the wizarding world.” 

Harry pauses and then says slowly, “You do believe me, don’t you?” 

“Of course,” Ron says quickly. “But — you must admit it’s weird…” 

“I know it’s weird, Ron,” Harry says, his temper flaring. “The whole thing’s weird. What was that writing on the wall about?” he pauses. “What did it say, again?”

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened and enemies of the heir beware,” Hermione says.

“It rings a bell,” Ron mutters. “Somebody told me about a secret chamber once… maybe Bill or Charlie…” 

Harry hums and then he harrumphs, “Can you believe him? Accusing me of snooping around his office! What the hell is the Squib, anyway?”

“Language, Harry,” Hermione says. Harry ignores her.

Ron snorts and then coughs, “Well — it’s not funny really — but as it’s Filch… A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn’t got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of muggleborns, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch’s trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much. He’s bitter.” 

A clock chimes.

“Midnight,” Harry frowns. “We’d better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else.”

For the next few days, all anybody can talk about is the attack on Mrs Norris and writing on the wall. Apparently, Filch tried desperately to clean it off but it’s still there for everybody to read. Ginny seems especially disturbed by the attack, more so than the rest of the school, and nothing Ron or even Harry says cheers her up. It also, unsurprisingly, has had an effect on Hermione, but the opposite of how it affected Ginny. Hermione seems almost excited by the mere thought of ‘The Chamber of Secrets’ and has been non stop reading without showing signs of stopping any time soon.

The Wednesday following the attack, Harry gets held back in potions, Snape making him scrape tubeworms of the desks. After making sure Ron knows how unhappy he is with having to miss half of lunch, he eats quickly and then he and Ron start on their way to the library to find Hermione and see if she’s finally responsive. 

“Hi, Jus —”

Ron stops abruptly and then scoffs, “Rude.”

“What?” Harry asks.

“The boy we worked with in Herbology while you watered plants” — Harry laughs — “was coming toward us and I tried to say hi, y’know, to be nice or something, and he just ran away.”

“Oh, you don’t want to do that, the whole polite thing. S’how I ended up getting invited to a deathday party.”

“I’m not just going to be a dick,” Ron mutters. “But it’s weird. He was so talkative in Herbology…”

Ron tells Hermione about it as he measures his History of Magic essay and Hermione doesn’t satisfy him with a response, instead complaining about the fact that all the copies of  _ Hogwarts, A History  _ have been checked out and she left hers at home.

“Why do you want it?” Harry asks.

“The same reason everyone else wants it,” Hermione says, “to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets.” 

“What’s that?” Harry says.

“That’s just it. I can’t remember,” Hermione says. “And I can’t find the story anywhere else —” 

“Hermione, let me read your composition,” Ron suddenly says desperately. 

“No, I won’t,” Hermione says sharply. “You’ve had ten days to finish it —” 

“I only need another two inches, come on —”

The two continue to bicker the whole way to History of Magic, Harry in between them and hating life.

Harry is almost completely asleep, at ease knowing that Hermione is still taking notes for him just as she always has, when Professor Binns says something that isn’t about the topic.

“Miss — er — ?”

“Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets,” Hermione says.

Harry wakes up immediately, sitting up straighter. There’s a few thumps that Harry assumes are heads hitting desks and he suppresses a laugh.

“My subject is History of Magic,” Professor Binns says. “I deal with  _ facts, _ Miss Granger, not myths and legends.” He clears his throat and continues. “In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers —” 

He stops.

“Miss Grant?” 

“Please, sir, don’t legends always have a basis in fact?” 

Harry can almost feel the shock radiating off of Professor Binns at the fact that a student is actually interrupting him.

“Well,” Professor Binns says slowly, “yes, one could argue that, I suppose… However, the legend of which you speak is such a very  _ sensational, _ even  _ ludicrous _ tale —”

He pauses and seems to realize how interested everybody is in his words.

“Oh, very well,” he mutters. “Let me see… the Chamber of Secrets… 

“You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago — the precise date is uncertain — by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution… 

“For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school.” 

He pauses again.

“Reliable historical sources tell us this much,” he says. “But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. 

“Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.”

The silence following this is tense and not at all like the usual sleepy silence.

“The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course,” Professor Binns says, sounding slightly annoyed. “Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible.” 

“Sir — what exactly do you mean by the ‘horror within’ the Chamber?” Hermione asks.

“That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control,” Professor Binns answers. Harry frowns. 

“I tell you, the thing does not exist. There is no Chamber and no monster.” 

“But, sir,” Seamus speaks up, “if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin’s true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?” 

“Nonsense, O’Flaherty,” Professor Binns says, definitely annoyed now. “If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven’t found the thing —” 

“But, Professor,” Parvati Patil (who Harry hasn’t talked to since last year but she used to read him his notes just because she wanted to and Harry actually likes her) says, “you’d probably have to use Dark Magic to open it —” 

“Just because a wizard  _ doesn’t _ use Dark Magic doesn’t mean he  _ can’t, _ Miss Pennyfeather,” Professor Binns snaps. “I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore —” 

“But maybe you’ve got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn’t —” Dean starts but Professor Binns has clearly had enough.

“That will do,” he says sharply. “It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to  _ history, _ to solid, believable, verifiable  _ fact!” _

Within minutes, Harry is almost asleep.

“I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony,” Ron says after class as they make their way back to Gryffindor Tower to drop their bags off before dinner. “But I never knew he started all this pureblood stuff.”

“It makes sense to be scared, y’know. Not that I  _ agree,  _ but I can see a point of view, I suppose. Not the… muggleborns are lesser point of view but the being scared of Muggles point of view,” Harry says. “Honestly, if some of these purebloods actually learned about the past wars… they’d never want to even  _ look  _ at a Muggle…”

Before Hermione can add her own comment about that, Colin’s voice interrupts her.

“Hiya, Harry!”

“Hello, Colin,” Harry smiles.

“Harry — Harry — a boy in my class has been saying you’re —” 

What the boy has been saying goes unheard as Colin is swept up in the crowd of students passing by. Harry hears him squeak, “See you, Harry!”

“What’s a boy in his class saying about you?” Hermione says.

“That I’m Slytherin’s heir, I expect,” Harry says easily. “All the evidence lines up, except, y’know, the fact that I’m blind.”

“People here’ll believe anything,” Ron mutters darkly.

They begin to climb a staircase.

“D’you really think there’s a Chamber of Secrets?” Ron asks Hermione as he lifts Harry over a vanishing step, causing Harry to squeak like a mouse.

“I don’t know,” she says, ignoring Harry’s now flaming face. Harry attempts to calm his racing heart as he continues. “Dumbledore couldn’t cure Mrs. Norris himself, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be — well — human.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit weird,” Harry says, “that he  _ immediately  _ knew how to cure her? It almost sounded like he’s experienced in petrified things.”

“He probably is,” Ron says. “He’s, what, a hundred and eleven? He’s  _ definitely  _ been through some shit.”

“Ronald!” Hermione scolds. The two boys ignore her.

“Do you think he knows what did it?” Harry asks.

“Most likely,” Ron says. “But, if last year was any indicator, I don’t think he’s gonna tell anybody.”

“Look,” Hermione says suddenly. 

Ron makes a strangled noise and backs up, taking Harry with him.

“That’s strange… have you ever seen spiders act like that?” Hermione says.

“Like what?” Harry asks.

“They look like they’re  _ running,”  _ she says. “Running away from something. Ron? Ron, are you okay?”

“I — don’t — like — spiders,” Ron says stiffly. 

“I never knew that,” Hermione mumbles. “You’ve used spiders in Potions loads of times…”

“I don’t mind them dead,” Ron says. “I just don’t like the way they move…” 

Hermione giggles. 

“It’s not funny,” Ron says fiercely. “If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my — my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick… You wouldn’t like them either if you’d been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and…”

He shudders. 

“Well,” Hermione says, her voice full of mirth, “I think it’s interesting. Anyway… remember all that water on the floor?”

Ron seems grateful for the subject change. “It was about here,” he says, walking away from Harry to point at something. “Level with this door.” 

“There was water on the floor?” Harry asks.

“Myrtle!” Hermione exclaims. “Peeves made her sad so she probably flooded the bathroom again. Here, let’s go have a look.”

“Hermione! That’s the girls bathroom!” Ron protests.

“Please, Ronald, nobody’s in there,” Hermione says. “It’ll be fine.”

“Nobody but an emotional ghost,” Harry grumbles. Ron snickers.

“Just… be quiet,” Hermione says before opening the door and pushing them inside. She leaves them and after a moment, says, “Hello, Myrtle, how are you?” 

Ron and Harry inch closer.

“This is a  _ girls’ _ bathroom,” she says and Harry almost grimaces.  _ “They’re _ not girls.” 

“No,” Hermione agrees. “I just wanted to show them how — er — nice it is in here.” 

Harry can tell by the tone of her voice that it definitely isn’t nice in here.

“Um, Myrtle, we were talking and we wanted to ask —” 

“I wish people would stop talking behind my back!” Myrtle suddenly interrupts Hermione and Harry’s patience immediately goes from one to negative five. He’s really gotta work on that. “I do have feelings, you know, even if I am dead —” 

“Myrtle, no one wants to upset you,” Hermione says. “We only —” 

“No one wants to upset me! That’s a good one!” Myrtle shouts. “My life was nothing but misery at this place and now people come along ruining my death!” 

“We wanted to ask you if you’ve seen anything funny lately,” Hermione says quickly. “Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween.” 

“Did you see anyone near here that night?” Harry asks.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Myrtle says dramatically and the negative five turns into a negative ten. “Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to kill myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I’m — that I’m —” 

“Already dead,” Ron says helpfully.

Myrtle lets out a loud sob and does something that splashes all of them with water. Harry’s lip curls.

They’ve just barely left the bathroom when a sudden yell makes them all freeze in place.

“RONALD BILLIUS!”

Harry presses his lips together to stop a laugh from escaping at hearing Ron’s middle name for the first time. He’s  _ definitely  _ using that later.

“That’s a  _ girls’ _ bathroom!” Percy continues. “What were you — ?” 

“Just having a look around,” Ron says casually. “Clues, you know —” 

“Get — away — from — there —” Percy says fiercely, pushing them down the corridor. “Don’t you  _ care _ what this looks like? Coming back here while everyone’s at dinner —” 

“Why shouldn’t we be here?” Ron says hotly, stopping abruptly, forcing Harry to almost run into him. “Listen, we never laid a finger on that cat!” 

“That’s what I told Ginny,” Percy says, “but she still seems to think you’re going to be expelled, I’ve never seen her so upset, crying her eyes out, you might think of  _ her, _ all the first years are thoroughly over excited by this business —” 

_ “You _ don’t care about Ginny,” Ron snaps.  _ “You’re _ just worried I’m going to mess up your chances of being Head Boy —” 

“Five points from Gryffindor!” Percy says sharply. “And I hope it teaches you a lesson! No more detective work, or I’ll write to Mum!”

With that, he walks away.

Harry is suddenly reminded of Oliver Wood, apparent best friend of Percy Weasley. After what just happened, the thought is weirder than ever.

“He’s such a —” Ron forces himself to stop and takes a deep breath. “I swear, it’s like Charlie leaving struck a match of pure  _ git  _ in him. He used to actually be  _ cool.  _ He’s turned into a monster.”

“That’s a little harsh, Ron —”

“A little harsh?” Ron repeats shrilly as they begin to walk. “Hermione, he told me to  _ fuck off  _ when I asked him to help rescue Harry, he wouldn’t even hear me out! Something has gotten into him and it’s more than just a stick up his arse!”   


Hermione doesn’t even scold him for his language, “Well… okay, that’s… not very okay but, Ron, he’s your  _ brother.  _ My sister is very mean sometimes and she didn’t take me being a witch very well, so I get it, but I don’t think trash talking him is going to help. Why don’t you just  _ ask  _ if something’s wrong? Or owl Charlie or Bill and see if they can get something out of him. Speaking from experience, just being mean back only makes it worse.”

Harry almost asks about Hermione’s sister but he recognizes that now isn’t the time. 

Ron is silent for a long moment and finally speaks as they start walking down a staircase. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll owl Bill later. He’s better at that sort of thing than any of us. At least he doesn’t outright say which sibling sent him after the other, unlike Charlie…”

“Good. That’s a start. Like I said, my sister is very mean sometimes, especially lately, so… I’m always here to talk to,” Hermione says gently.

“Thanks, Mione.”

Later, they sit far away from Percy in the common room just in case the conversation strays to him. They don’t want him to overhear and get the wrong idea.

Eventually, Hermione starts talking.

“Who can it be, though?” she says, as if they had just been talking and she’s picking up where they left off. “Who’d  _ want _ to frighten all the Squibs and muggleborns out of Hogwarts?” 

“Let’s think,” Ron says sarcastically. “Who do we know who thinks muggleborns are scum?” 

“If you’re talking about Malfoy —” 

“Of course I am!” Ron says. “You heard him — _ ‘You’ll be next, m-words!’ _ — come on, you’ve only got to look at his foul rat face to know it’s him —” 

“Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?” Hermione says skeptically. 

“I’ve never seen his foul rat face,” Harry says carefully, earning sighs of exasperation from both his friends. “I haven’t! I mean… he’s a bully but he’s not… I just don’t think he’d be stealthy enough to hide it, y’know? I feel like we’d all know if it was him. You heard him, he agrees with the beliefs but… if he was the one doing it, he’d definitely be bragging about it.”

“Maybe he is,” Hermione says slowly. “Just… not in front of us.”

“Hermione, please don’t make me be the sensible one, it’s tiring,” Harry whines.

“I think we need to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it’s us.” 

“It’s the car all over again. Hermione, we  _ can’t  _ do that, not to mention it’s impossible,” Harry says.

“No, it’s not,” Hermione says. “All we’d need would be some Polyjuice Potion.” 

“Hermione —”

“It transforms you into somebody else,” she says, ignoring Harry. “Think about it! We could change into three of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us. Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He’s probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him.” 

“Why did Hermione and I switch personalities?”

“But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult,” Hermione muses, still ignoring Harry. “Snape said it was in a book called  _ Moste Potente Potions _ and it’s bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library.”

Harry buries his face in his hands.

“Hard to see why we’d want the book, really,” Ron says, “if we weren’t going to try and make one of the potions.” 

“I think,” Hermione says, “that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance…”

“Oh, come on, no teacher’s going to fall for that,” Ron says. “They’d have to be really thick…”

Harry groans loudly. He’s ignored. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you can't tell, i love percy. also hermione has a sister! she won't be mentioned a lot but she's a thing. she's older than hermione and is kind of being a Petunia about the magic thing, except she's not abusive and totally would take in hermione's child and care for it like her own if hermione died so we have no choice but to stan hermione's older sister :')  
> harry not being completely obsessed with malfoy? it's more likely than you think. now, that doesn't mean he won't be in sixth year, because he actually like, has reason to be suspicious in sixth year, but in this year he's going to be all 'guys i don't think this is right' and ron and hermione are going to be like 'y'all hear sum??'  
> the polyjuice chapter >:) i've been thinking about that chapter for so long and now i finally get to actually write my idea down and post it and i'm so. excited. it's sad >:) hope y'all enjoy it when the time comes  
> also harry being like 'bitch i'm??? blind?????' and everybody ignoring him is so fucking funny to me. they're like 'it was potter he murdered filch's cat and wrote on the wall' and harry is just sitting there like 'bruh' and they still accuse him ahdhakdhakd this poor kid  
> also also hermione being sensible about percy and immediately turning around and going 'we gotta get evidence against malfoy just because we don't like him' is so fucking funny ajdkafha  
> anyway  
> happy early birthday to myself and ginevra molly weasley :') we have the same birthday and i think that's neat. she's 39!!!!! that's so crazy. i love her. i love my wife. she deserves everything. :'''')  
> as previously stated, i will not be updating on wednesday or friday and possibly monday too. i hope this chapter quenches your thirst for the time being :)  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	10. The Rogue Bludger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back!!! but i think the normal schedule is going to be a little messed up. the first day of school is today and i don't know how much time i'll get to write but i promise i won't abandon this series! 
> 
> now for this chapter, i introduced something i'm going to be using for the rest of the series. i got this idea from a comment a long time ago and also from toph from atla! i think it's neat but it's also pretty confusing so feel free to ask me questions about it and i'll try to explain it as best as i can. i tried my best in this chapter and i think it's at least somewhat cohesive.
> 
> anyway
> 
> i mention people throwing up and harry's arm breaks in this chapter
> 
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Ever since the pixie incident, Lockhart hasn’t brought any more magical creatures into the class, and has instead just been reading passages from his books. He sometimes reenacts the passages and every time, he asks Harry to be his volunteer. Harry, normally, has no problem reminding Lockhart as politely as possible that he is blind and doesn’t feel comfortable doing that, but in their next DADA class after Hermione and Ron figure out their plot, he finally says yes. After all, he may disapprove of their idea, but as he’s involved in it, he might as well make it  _ work.  _

He has to act like a werewolf. He almost leaves the classroom when Lockhart asks him to howl, but he manages. He stands by the door after class ends with a scowl on his face as he waits for Hermione and Ron to get the permission slip signed. This doesn’t stop Lockhart from talking to him after he signs it, though.

“So, Harry,” he calls across the classroom. Harry’s scowl deepens. “Tomorrow’s the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you’re a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don’t hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players…”

Ron lets out a bark of laughter and shoves Harry out of the classroom.

“Let me go, Ronald, I swear to god, I’ll punch him,” Harry growls, struggling against Ron’s grip. 

“No, you won’t,” Ron says calmly. “Don’t listen to him. I’ll bet he’s never even mounted a broom before.”

_ “Less able players,  _ who does he think he is?” Harry pushes Ron away and straightens his robes, giving a haughty sniff after he regains his composure. “If anything, it’s him who’s less able.”

“Calm down, Malfoy,” Ron says.

“Oh, piss off.”

Within ten minutes, they’re handed the book from Madam Pince and Harry finds himself sitting on the floor of Myrtle’s bathroom and listening to Hermione talk about ingredients.

“Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass. Well, they’re easy enough, they’re in the student store-cupboard, we can help ourselves… Ooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn — don’t know where we’re going to get that — shredded skin of a boomslang — that’ll be tricky, too — and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into.” 

“Excuse me?” Ron cuts in, his voice sharp. “What d’you mean, a bit of whoever we’re changing into? I’m drinking  _ nothing _ with Crabbe’s toenails in it —” 

Hermione ignores him. “We don’t have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last…”

Harry rubs his temples. “D’you realize how much we’re going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of a boomslang, that’s definitely not in the students’ cupboard. Are you actually suggesting we sneak into Snape’s private cupboard? That’s a worse idea than flying a car to Hogwarts.”

Ron scoffs but it’s drowned out by the loud snap of Hermione slamming the book shut.

“Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine,” she says. “I don’t want to break rules, you know. I think threatening muggleborns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don’t want to find out if it’s Malfoy, I’ll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in —”

“Normally, I would chicken out, because this is stupid,” Harry cuts her off. The book collides with his thigh. He closes his eyes. “It’s  _ so  _ stupid but… fine, we’ll make the potion. Just make sure that the piece of Crabbe and Goyle you get is not a pube —”

“Harry James Potter!”

Harry grins. “How long will it take anyway?”

Hermione huffs and drops the book back onto the floor, earning a loud  _ smack!  _ She’s silent for a moment and then says, “Since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days… I’d say it’d be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients.”

Ron groans loudly and Harry falls dramatically onto his back. Hermione slaps them both across the knee and says firmly, “You’re lucky it’s me you’ve got doing it! I’d be happy to enlist Neville to do it for me.”

Ron and Harry are quick to take back all of their protests.

Harry wakes up the next day a bundle of nerves. He  _ has  _ to beat Slytherin today to make up for their loss against Ravenclaw last year, but the Slytherins have all new brooms, the fastest on the market. Considering he’s never practiced alongside one, there’s no telling how much they outmatch his Nimbus Two Thousand. 

At eleven, he heads down to the pitch with the rest of the team. They begin changing into their Quidditch robes once in the locker room and Oliver, unsurprisingly, finishes getting dressed first and waits impatiently for all of them to sit down and focus on him. 

Finally, they’re all dressed. Angelina pulls Harry down onto the bench next to her just as he goes to sit on the other bench next to one of the twins. He accepts his fate and just listens.

“Slytherin has better brooms than us,” Oliver starts. “No point denying it. But we’ve got better  _ people _ on our brooms. We’ve trained harder than they have, we’ve been flying in all weathers and we’re going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team.” 

He directs his words at Harry now.

“It’ll be down to you, Harry, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harry, because we’ve got to win today, we’ve got to.” 

“So no pressure, Harry,” Fred says. Harry cracks a smile. Angelina gives him an encouraging side hug and then stands. He follows suit.

They get out onto the field and within two minutes, Harry is up in the air and circling the pitch, straining his ears for the Snitch.

Faintly, he hears Malfoy yell something, but as if his ears are filled with water, he can’t hear it clearly. It’s like all his senses have been blocked, he can’t even smell. He feels himself move and then it comes back. He barely has time to register what just happened because something whistles past his ear. A Bludger. He lets out a breath of relief at not being hit. The relief doesn’t last long. His senses disappear again and he moves once more, almost like some outer force is controlling his movements. After a third time, he finally realizes what’s happening. It’s not some outer force, it’s  _ him.  _ His magic! This Bludger is focused on murdering him, obviously, and his magic is helping him dodge it! It’s not blocking his senses, it’s focusing on just his sight, but since he has none, it just feels like he’s leaving his body for a moment. His magic must be able to see, though, because he’s dodging the Bludger easily. He doesn’t focus too hard on the logic behind it.

He zooms across the field, attempting to shake the Bludger off his trail while simultaneously trying to control the seemingly random focusing of his senses. It’s started raining but he ignores this. He’s just managed to direct his magic to his ears when Fred and George get on either side of him and begin hitting the Bludger away from him repeatedly. He quickly stops playing with his magic and tries to put himself back in the game again and attempt to find the Snitch but with Fred and George yelling and clamoring about on either side of him, it’s difficult.

Finally, George gets the sense to call a timeout. Harry lands on the ground with a small stumble.

“What’s going on?” Oliver says once they’ve all huddled together. “We’re being flattened. Fred, George, where were you when that Bludger stopped Angelina scoring?” 

“We were twenty feet above her, stopping the other Bludger from murdering Harry, Oliver,” George growls.“Someone’s fixed it — it won’t leave Harry alone. It hasn’t gone for anyone else all game. The Slytherins must have done something to it.” 

“But the Bludgers have been locked in Madam Hooch’s office since our last practice, and there was nothing wrong with them then…” Oliver mumbles.

“Listen,” Harry says quickly, sensing the rising tension in his teammates. “I can — my magic is doing something and I’ve no idea what it is but it’s helping me dodge the Bludger. I’ll be fine. Just focus on the other Bludger and let me deal with the rogue one.”

“Don’t be thick,” Fred says. “Magic or not, it’ll take your bloody head off.”

“Oliver, this is insane,” Alicia cuts in. “You can’t let Harry deal with that thing on his own. Let’s ask for an inquiry —” 

“If we stop now, we’ll have to forfeit the match!” Harry says hotly. “And we’re not losing to Slytherin just because of a crazy Bludger! Come on, Oliver, tell them to leave me alone! I’ve got this!”

“This is all your fault,” George says angrily to Oliver. “ ‘Get the Snitch or die trying,’ what a stupid thing to tell him —” 

“Ready to resume play?” Madam Hooch joins them.

There’s a pause. 

“Alright,” Oliver says. “Fred, George, you heard Harry — leave him alone and let him deal with the Bludger on his own.” 

When Harry gets back into the air, he messes around with his newfound skill while dodging the Bludger. He directs his magic to his hearing and sight and leaves it there. Now, with almost batlike hearing, he can hear Oliver across the stadium mumbling curses under his breath, all directed toward Marcus Flint. He grins. This magic thing will definitely help him and not just in Quidditch.

He begins his search for the Snitch once more, all the while easily maneuvering his way around the Bludger, sometimes with ridiculous twirls and loops and other times with a simple jerk to the right or left.

“Training for the ballet, Potter?” he hears Malfoy yell after a twirl.

Harry goes to taunt him back but that’s when he hears it. The familiar fluttering of wings. He pauses for a second too long, though. 

_ CRACK! _

His batlike hearing dissipates, but not without allowing him to hear his arm  _ shattering.  _ He manages to hold in a scream of agony. He bites his lip hard and focuses back on his magic, directing it all to his hearing and sight again and allowing his body to move seemingly on it’s own, even though he knows it’s him doing it. But with one broken arm and the other now clutched around the Snitch — he can’t remember ever closing his fist around it — he has no hand to steer himself. His broom begins to fall.

He hears screaming in the crowd and winces, letting his magic flow through his body normally. The pain in his arm comes back suddenly just as he hits the ground. 

He falls onto his back in the mud and squeezes his hand, the one not attached to his broken arm. A small grin crosses over his face.

“We won.”

And then he faints.

When he wakes up again, he hears a voice.

“ — Now, stand back, everyone! I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh no, not you,” Harry groans.

Lockhart lets out an awkward chuckle. “Doesn’t know what he’s saying. Not to worry, Harry. I’m about to fix your arm.”

“No!” Harry tries to move away but the pain stops him. “Madam Pomfrey can fix it, you don’t have to.”

“Lie back, Harry,” he says gently. Harry scowls. “It’s a simple charm I’ve used countless times —”

He hears a familiar clicking noise.

“Colin,  _ no,  _ I don’t want photos of this,” he says.

“Stand back,” Lockhart says again.

“Just take me to the hospital wing!”

A sudden strange and very unpleasant feeling spreads through Harry’s arm. There’s gasps of horror and Harry hears a few people begin to retch. Colin’s camera clicking picks up speed. Harry’s arm no longer hurts but it no longer feels like an arm anymore.

“Ah,” Lockhart says. “Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That’s the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the hospital wing — ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, would you escort him? — and Madam Pomfrey will be able to — er — tidy you up a bit.”

“What did you do to me?” Harry says through clenched teeth as Ron and Hermione pull him off the ground. 

“Nothing to worry about, Harry,” Lockhart says vaguely.

“Well, I am worrying, Lockhart!” Harry growls. Ron and Hermione begin pulling him away from the professor. “What did you do? What happened to my arm?”

“Send Madam Pomfrey my best wishes!”

Madam Pomfrey very clearly doesn’t care for Lockhart’s best wishes.

Harry learns within a minute of entering the hospital wing that Lockhart didn’t mend Harry’s bones, no, he removed them. Madam Pomfrey is just as furious as Harry is, though Harry is decidedly more angry about his bones disappearing than her.

Harry is silent for a long moment as Ron helps him change into pajamas. To distract himself from the embarrassment of Ron seeing him almost naked and also helping him change as if Harry is a baby, he begins talking.

“I found out I can direct my magic around,” he says casually, ignoring his burning face.

“What?” Ron says, sounding very out of it. Harry wonders if Ron is trying to distract himself just as much as Harry is. This thought quickly disappears though because what reason would Ron have for doing that? Harry is just being weird.

“S’how I was dodging the Bludger,” he says. “I can like… move my magic around and enhance my senses. If I focus it on my sight, it doesn’t  _ give  _ me sight but it allows me to almost see what’s happening, y’know? Like… some sort of echolocation, except that makes no sense.”

“No, it does,” Hermione says from the other side of the curtain. “By focusing your magic on your sense of sight, it becomes sensitive. If I were to do that, I’d blind myself by looking at a candle light, but since you don’t have sight in the first place, it’s almost like you’re seeing the same way we are, just… without the actual  _ seeing  _ part.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ron says. “At all.”

“Well, that’s how it is,” Harry shrugs. “And I can do it to my other senses too. I did it to my hearing and it helped me find the Snitch easier. I imagine if I put just a little bit of my magic into my hearing while I walk around, I’ll be able to go off on my own without you two having to lead me everywhere. Or… I suppose I could do it to my sight but I think to have it  _ actually  _ work the way you described it, I’d have to put all my magic into my sight and I still need some of it for my other senses. It’d be better to just enhance my hearing a bit, that way I can walk around easier.”

“I’ll find a book,” Hermione says. “I’m sure there’s one about it, I’ll ask Madam Pince. I’ll tell you about whatever I find. If this fighting for your life thing is going to become a pattern, it’ll be good to train it.”

Harry sighs, “I really wish it won’t become one.”

“Yeah, us too, mate,” Ron mumbles.

Ron finally shoves Harry’s limp arm through the sleeve of his pajama shirt and pulls the curtain back. He helps Harry onto the bed and then helps him take the potion, something called  _ Skele-Gro.  _ After he washes the taste away with water, Madam Pomfrey hands over another potion called  _ Dreamless Sleep.  _

“Makes the regrowing bearable,” she explains. “You don’t want to be awake for it. Trust me.”

Harry figures trusting her is going to become a common theme in his life.

When he wakes up later, Ron and Hermione are gone and the hospital wing is eerily silent. He sits up and winces at the feeling of pins and needles in his arm. It’s like it’s asleep but whenever he moves it, a searing pain shoots through it. He resigns to just leaving it at his side.

He startles when a voice begins speaking.

“Harry Potter came back to school. Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn’t you heed Dobby? Why didn’t Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?”

“Dobby?” Harry says. “What  _ are  _ you doing here? And how did you know I missed the train?”

Harry is met with silence. Realization dawns.

_ “You!”  _ Harry growls. “You closed the barrier, didn’t you?”

“Indeed yes, sir,” Dobby says. “Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterward, but Dobby didn’t care, sir, for he thought Harry Potter was safe, and never did Dobby dream that Harry Potter would get to school another way! Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master’s dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir…”

Harry slumps back, scoffing. “You nearly got Ron and me expelled. You’d better get lost before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might strangle you.”

Dobby gives a wet laugh. “Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home.” He blows his nose loudly.

Harry feels his anger recede slightly hearing that. “I don’t understand, Dobby, why can’t you leave?”

“Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house forever.” 

Before Harry can respond to that, Dobby begins speaking again. “Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make —” 

_ “Your _ Bludger?” Harry interrupts, his anger coming back quickly. “What d’you mean, _ your  _ Bludger?  _ You _ made that Bludger try and kill me?” 

“Not kill you, sir, never kill you!” Dobby exclaims. “Dobby wants to save Harry Potter’s life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!” 

“Oh, is that all?” Harry growls. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?” 

“Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!” Dobby moans. “If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir,” he admits. “But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord’s power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, sir… And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more —”

Dobby stops and then hits himself with something, falling to the ground with a small  _ thud  _ and then mumbling, “Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby…”

“So there _ is _ a Chamber of Secrets?” Harry mutters. “And — did you say it’s been opened before? Tell me, Dobby!”

Harry seizes his wrist to stop him from hitting himself anymore. “I’m not muggleborn — how can I be in danger from the Chamber?”

“Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby,” Dobby pleads. “Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen — go home, Harry Potter, go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, ’tis too dangerous —” 

“Who is it, Dobby?” Harry says, giving Dobby a small shake. “Who’s opened it? Who opened it last time?” 

“Dobby can’t, sir, Dobby can’t, Dobby mustn’t tell!” Dobby squeals. “Go home, Harry Potter, go home!” 

“I’m not going anywhere!” Harry says fiercely. “One of my best friends is muggleborn; she’ll be first in line if the Chamber really has been opened —” 

“Harry Potter risks his own life for his friends!” Dobby says shrilly. “So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter must not —”

He stops suddenly. Harry realizes why quickly. He can hear footsteps coming toward the hospital wing.

“Dobby must go!”

There’s a loud crack and then Harry’s hand is holding air. He quickly settles himself back into his bed and pretends to be asleep just as the door of the hospital wing opens.

“Get Poppy,” Dumbledore’s familiar voice says quietly.

Harry hears a professor sweep past his bed, urgent voices, and then the same professor accompanied by Madam Pomfrey walking past his bed once more.

There’s a sharp inhale from somebody.

“What happened?” Madam Pomfrey asks.

“Another attack,” Dumbledore says. “Minerva found him on the stairs.”

“There was a bunch of grapes next to him,” Professor McGonagall’s voice says. “We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter.”

Harry’s stomach twists with guilt.

“Petrified?” Madam Pomfrey whispers.

“Yes,” Professor McGonagall says. “But I shudder to think… If Albus hadn’t been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate — who knows what might have —” 

There’s a long pause.

“You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?” Professor McGonagall says.

The guilt doubles tenfold.  _ Colin.  _ Harry bites his lip.

There’s a sudden hiss and the smell of burning plastic reaches Harry’s nose.

“Melted,” Madam Pomfrey mumbles. “All melted…”

“What does this mean, Albus?” Professor McGonagall asks.

“It means,” Dumbledore says, “that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.”

“But, Albus… surely…  _ who?”  _

“The question is not  _ who,” _ Dumbledore says. “The question is,  _ how…” _

Harry, now filled with guilt and unable to sleep, focuses his magic on his sight to block out all his other senses. 

_ Bloody Heir of Slytherin…  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry and toph: using their powers to help them see  
> everybody else: i do not,,,understand  
> magic echolocation! harry is now a bat!!! i love him and i love the idea of his magic helping him see. this is also going to make future scenes easier for me to write, like dueling club or the fight with the basilisk or literally anything else lmao. i hope you can at least make some sense of the explanation or if not, just learn to accept that it's a thing and nobody really understands it :/  
> also harry being totally ready to get into a fist fight with lockhart is so funny??? harry has the same feral energy as a chihuahua i don't make the rules that's just the truth  
> anyway  
> i'm not sure when the next chapter will be updated. with school starting today, everything is going to be a little hectic and idk when i'll get the time to write because my dad is probably gonna implement his 'be in bed by 10 pm' rule again now that summer is over so uh next chapter will be updated when it's updated :)  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	11. The Dueling Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i need to put any trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

When Harry wakes up on Sunday morning, his arm has regained its bones but is very stiff and unusable. Madam Pomfrey tells him he needs to eat before he leaves and he grumbles about it under his breath before doing as he’s told.

She pats his shoulder and says, sounding amused, “You Potter boys are exactly the same.”

Harry cracks a smile and says around a mouthful of food, “Thanks.”

She huffs a laugh. “I heard you telling your friends about your magic. Your father figured it out in his second year as well, during a Quidditch game at that. Just be careful. Don’t get a big head about it. It helps but it’s  _ not  _ sight and it never will be. I know what’ll happen, you’ll get brave and then hurt yourself and I have to deal with the aftermath. Let’s stop that before it happens, okay?”

“Yes, Madam,” Harry says. She pats his shoulder again and walks away.

He eats quickly and dresses even quicker. He leaves the hospital wing and then stands just outside the doors, wondering which senses would help him get around easier. He decides to divide his magic between hearing, sight, and touch. Hearing because he’ll be able to tell if there’s a wall beside him without having to touch it, sight because… well, and touch because now, he can feel vibrations beneath his feet and deduct if somebody is in his way. He grins to himself and begins walking.

He only falters after about five minutes because he remembers that he has no idea where he’s going. He was unconscious the first time he was taken to the hospital wing and yesterday, he was more focused on his boneless arm than anything. 

Thankfully, somebody notices his confusion.

“Need some help, Harry?” Percy’s voice asks. “Excellent flying yesterday, by the way, really excellent. Gryffindor has just taken the lead for the House Cup — you earned fifty points! Oliver thinks I’m jinxing it by talking about it but he’s always been superstitious. I’ve learned to ignore it.”

“Thanks, Percy,” Harry smiles. The thought of Oliver and Percy being best friends is still very weird but the more Harry hears and thinks about it, the less foreign it becomes. “Have you seen Hermione or Ron?”

“No, sorry,” Percy says. “I hope my brother is staying out of trouble…”

_ The bathroom. _

“Um, what floor am I on right now, Percy?”

“The first. I’ve just come out of the library.”

Harry gets his bearings quickly. “Thanks. See you in the common room!”

Percy’s laughter rings in his ears as he runs off. He can’t tell if it’s because his hearing is more sensitive right now or if it's because he's never heard Percy laugh before, let alone at one of his blind jokes, _or_ if it’s because he and Ron laugh the same way. He decides to blame it on the first two reasons.

After reaching the second floor and making sure that nobody is around by putting more magic into his touch sense and waiting to feel vibrations, he ducks into Myrtle’s bathroom.

“Ron? Mione?”

“Harry!” there’s a creak and splashing footsteps before his arms are full of bushy hair. Well, arm. The other hangs stiffly at his side, still unusable. 

He lets his magic flow normally and hugs back.

“How’s your arm?” Hermione asks, pulling him inside a stall. She closes the door behind him and locks it. Harry can hear a sort of crackling and chalks it up to them starting the potion.

“My bones are back,” Harry says, “but I can’t move it yet. What are you guys doing? And why in here?”

“We figured this would be the best place to make the Polyjuice Potion,” Ron explains. “And we would’ve met you but after Colin… D’you know what I think? Malfoy was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Whatever you say, dear.”

Ron punches his shoulder and he laughs.

“Oh!” he suddenly remembers. “Dobby visited me last night.”

He tells them everything Dobby told him, or didn’t tell him.

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened _ before?” _ Hermione says after he finishes.

“This settles it,” Ron’s voice is triumphant. “Lucius Malfoy must’ve opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he’s told dear old Draco how to do it. It’s obvious. Wish Dobby’d told you what kind of monster’s in there, though. I want to know how come nobody’s noticed it sneaking around the school.” 

_ “I  _ want to know why I can understand it and you two can’t,” Harry says. “That must be what I’m hearing!”

“Maybe it can make itself invisible,” Hermione suggests, sounding just as curious as Harry feels. “Or maybe it can disguise itself — pretend to be a suit of armor or something — I’ve read about Chameleon Ghouls…”

“I think we’d notice if there was an extra suit of armor just hanging around the scene,” Ron says.

“I wouldn’t,” Harry grins. Hermione and Ron’s silence oozes exasperation and he laughs loudly.

“By seventh year, that’s not going to be funny,” Ron says.

“With the way this year is going, I’m not sure I’ll be alive by then.”

“You certainly won’t be if Dobby keeps trying to save your life.”

Harry laughs again.

The next day, the news about Colin has made its way around the school. The air becomes thick with rumor and suspicion. First years take to travelling in groups or pairs and so do some older years, though they try to act cool and nonchalant about it.

Ginny seems to be taking it the hardest and Fred and George’s attempts to cheer her up don’t seem to be working, so much so that Percy has to threaten to owl Mrs. Weasley to get them to stop. Apparently, she’s been having nightmares. Harry isn’t so sure that they’re about Fred and George scaring her.

There’s also a hidden trade of protective items going around, unbeknownst to the professors. Neville stocks up, even though he’s a pureblood and at no risk.

In the second week of December, Professor McGonagall comes around with a piece of parchment, asking if anybody wants to stay over the break. Hermione, Ron, and Harry sign up. Hermione is reluctant to do so, however, because she thinks it might make her relationship with her sister get even worse, and she also misses her parents, but she declares that it’s for the best after Ron and Harry tell her she doesn’t have to stay. Malfoy is staying as well, which Harry can admit is a little suspicious, but he still doesn’t think the boy has anything to do with the attacks. Ron and Hermione think Yule break will be the perfect time to interrogate Malfoy.

Unfortunately for Ron and Hermione and fortunately for Harry, the potion is half finished. They still need the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin, which are only found in Snape’s private stores.

“What we need,” Hermione says on Wednesday, “is a diversion. Then one of us can sneak into Snape’s office and take what we need.” 

Harry blinks.

“I think I’d better do the actual stealing,” Hermione continues. “You two will be expelled if you get into any more trouble, and I’ve got a clean record. So all you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so.” 

“Good luck,” Harry claps a hand on Ron’s shoulder. “That’s all you, mate.”

Ron groans.

Harry hears the plan before they head to Potions the next day. Ron is going to wait until Hermione gives the signal and then he’s going to throw a Filibuster Firework into Goyle’s cauldron. This should distract Snape enough to let Hermione slip into his cupboard, get what they need, and get back to her seat without him noticing. Harry makes sure to remind him that he hates them currently and that he’s absolutely going to laugh when they’re proven wrong and they, as always, ignore him.

It’s right after Snape finishes reprimanding him about his potion that Ron drags him under the desk and orders him quietly to not stand up until Ron kicks his foot. With that, Ron stands back up and throws the firework. The resounding explosion and screams tell Harry that Ron’s aim was true. Ron kicks his foot and Harry stands, sitting back down and, to add effect and keep suspicion off himself, covers his ears. 

The class falls silent and Harry slowly lowers his hands, just in time to hear Snape whisper, “If I ever find out who threw this, I shall  _ make sure _ that person is expelled.”

Hermione tells them once they’re back in Myrtle’s bathroom that the potion will be ready in two weeks. 

Harry curses the day they come back to find it ready. Ron and Hermione ignore him.

A week later, they find out about a dueling club. Harry very vehemently tries to explain why he  _ doesn’t  _ want to go to it — the reason being he is  _ blind  _ and yes, he can direct his magic around and enhance his senses but  _ still  _ — but Ron manages to convince him by only saying, “Pleeeeease,” so at eight o’clock that evening, they head to the Great Hall. Harry really needs to sit down and have a chat with himself about his thing with Ron. But he knows himself and he knows that simply reprimanding himself for acting weird won’t stop him from acting weird. It might make him act even weirder. He decides to just leave well enough alone and hope it goes away.

“Gather round, gather round!” he hears the very unwelcome voice of Lockhart yell after a moment of them standing awkwardly in the Great Hall. Harry groans. “Can everyone see me?” (Harry says, “No,” over everybody else’s  _ yes.  _ Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville hear him and all snicker.) “Can you all hear me? Excellent!

“Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works. 

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,” Lockhart says. Harry laughs quietly. “He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry — you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!”

“Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?” Ron mumbles into Harry’s ear. Harry snorts.

There’s some rustling of fabric and then Lockhart continues speaking.

“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” he says. Harry throws his hands up, earning more laughter from his dorm mates. “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.”

“I would be,” Harry mutters. 

“One — two — three —”

Snape almost immediately says,  _ “Expelliarmus!”  _ which very loudly sends Lockhart into the wall. Harry flinches.

“Do you think he’s all right?” Hermione says nervously. 

“Who cares?” Ron and Harry say together.

“Well, there you have it!” Lockhart says loudly. Harry wishes he had just stayed on the ground and accepted his fate. “That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I’ve lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown — yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy — however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…”

There’s a beat of tense of silence before Lockhart hastily continues. “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me —”

Harry immediately loops his arm with Ron’s and only hopes that Hermione doesn’t feel too offended. 

Unfortunately, Snape reaches them before Lockhart.

“Time to split up the dream team, I think,” he says.

Harry’s face falls.

“Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter —” 

Harry steps closer to Hermione. She takes his wrist in her hand.

“I don’t think so,” Snape says. Harry wants to shout at him. “Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let’s see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger — you can partner Miss Bulstrode.”

Harry quickly divides his magic up. Sight, hearing, touch. He grips his wand tightly.

“Face your partners!” Lockhart calls. “And bow!” 

Harry doesn’t. Malfoy scoffs.

“Wands at the ready!” Lockhart shouts. “When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents — only to disarm them — we don’t want any accidents — one… two… three —”

Harry goes to cast but Malfoy had started on ‘two’. His spell hits Harry hard and he stumbles back. He quickly gets his footing, divides his magic back up, and once he finds Malfoy, he casts,  _ “Rictusempra!” _

Malfoy begins to wheeze and Harry smirks.

_ “I said disarm only!” _ Lockhart yells, alarm clear in his voice. 

_ “Tarantallegra!” _

Harry’s legs suddenly begin to move on their own. 

“Stop! Stop!” Lockhart screams.

_ “Finite Incantatem!”  _ Snape’s voice suddenly yells.

Harry stops dancing, Malfoy stops laughing, and all the chaos dies down quickly. Snape has to break up a fight between Millicent Bulstrode and Hermione while Harry hears Ron apologizing to Seamus for whatever his broken wand did. 

“Dear, dear,” Lockhart says quietly. “Up you go, Macmillan… Careful there, Miss Fawcett… Pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Boot —”

“I think I’d better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,” Lockhart says after a moment, sounding quite flustered. “Let’s have a volunteer pair — Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you —” 

“A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” Snape cuts in. “Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.” 

Harry scowls.

“How about Malfoy and Potter?” 

Harry’s scowl disappears and is replaced by shock.

“Excellent idea!” Lockhart claps his hands together before pulling Harry onto the stage.

“Um, no, I don’t think so, I’m  _ blind  _ —”

“Scared, Potter?”

Harry immediately straightens up, pushing Lockhart away, “You wish.”

“Alright, just do what I did, Harry!” Lockhart tells him.

“I don’t  _ know  _ what you did! How many times do I have to tell you people? I’m blind!”

Lockhart ignores him. “Okay. Wands at the ready! Three — two — one — go!”

Before Harry can even react, Malfoy is already shouting a spell.

_ “Serpensortia!” _

Harry very quickly backs away. The crowd around them screams and gasps. 

_ “Who dares disturb my hunt?” _

Harry tenses. He knows for a fact that Malfoy just conjured a snake but…  _ why can he understand it? _

He remembers that time at the zoo. The snake from Brazil who just wanted to be free. The snake who called him  _ friend.  _ Who told him that they're similar in the way that neither of them can see very well.

“Don’t move, Potter,” Snape says lazily. “I’ll get rid of it…”

“Allow me!” Lockhart butts in.

Harry’s eyes widen. He opens his mouth to protest but Lockhart is already taking action. There’s a loud bang and then a  _ smack.  _ Now even more enraged, Harry feels the snake begin to slither toward somebody. In an act of pure idiocy and desperation, he shouts,  _ “Leave them be!” _

The snake stops moving and Harry immediately regrets doing that, seeing as everybody is now completely silent and obviously not happy with him.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” a voice Harry doesn’t recognize shouts.

“I didn’t —”

The boy is already running away.

Harry stands, shocked, until he feels a tugging at his robes and Ron’s voice urging him to move. He allows his magic to flow freely again as Ron drags him out of the Great Hall.

They don’t speak until they reach the common room, where Ron pushes Harry down into a chair and declares, “You’re a Parselmouth. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“That’s what it’s called?”

_ “Harry!” _

“Sorry,” Harry flinches. “What’s the big deal anyway? I just told it to not attack whoever it was going for.”

“That’s what you said?” Ron says, anger replaced with curiosity. 

“Yes?” Harry says. “I don’t understand, did I do something wrong?”

“Justin probably thinks you did,” Ron mutters. “Probably thought you were egging it on or something.”

Harry blinks. “Why would I do that? And it stopped attacking him when I spoke! Didn’t you hear me? I told it to leave him alone!”   


“We heard you speaking Parseltongue,” Ron says. “Snake language.”

Harry’s mouth falls open. “I was speaking a different language? I didn’t realize — but — how can I speak a different language without knowing I can speak it?”

Hermione and Ron only give him silence in response.

“D’you wanna tell me what I did wrong?” Harry says, starting to get angry. “I stopped a snake from attacking someone! It’s not like I conjured it!  _ That  _ was Malfoy!”   


“We know, mate, but…”

“It’s just that,” Hermione sighs. “Salazar Slytherin could talk to snakes. It’s what he’s known for. It’s why the house symbol is a serpent.”

“So?”

“Everyone’s going to think you’re related to him! That  _ you’re  _ the Heir of Slytherin,” Ron says. “And I’m not saying that you are, mate, but how else would you explain being a Parselmouth… it’s inherited…”

Harry jumps up, “It sure sounds like you think I am.”

“Harry, no, we’re just pointing out —”

“I’m  _ not  _ the Heir of Slytherin! Why would I be? You both know that I’ve always been indifferent toward Mrs. Norris  _ and  _ that I actually liked Colin!  _ My best friend is a muggleborn!” _

Hermione stomps her foot on the ground loudly, “We’re not accusing you, Harry! We’re just telling you that everybody else is going to now! It’s suspicious, that’s all.”

Harry turns on his heel and stomps off.

“That’s the girl’s stairs, Harry…”

Harry lets out a frustrated shout and turns around, storming off in the right direction this time.

The next morning, Harry is set on finding Justin and explaining what happened, and Herbology being cancelled doesn’t stop him. He gives his friends the cold shoulder, anger still simmering from the night before, and heads out of the portrait hole. 

He finds the library quickly and easily, thankfully, and heads inside to check there first. He enhances his hearing and within a second, finds himself eavesdropping on a conversation between a group of Hufflepuffs.

“So anyway,” a boy says, “I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter’s marked him down as his next victim, it’s best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin’s been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Weasley he’s a muggleborn. Justin actually  _ told  _ him he’d been down for Eton and I’m sure he went running to Potter. That’s not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin’s heir on the loose, is it?” 

“You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?” a girl says. “Why not Weasley?”

“Hannah,” the boy says, “Potter’s a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that’s the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue.” 

There’s some murmuring at this that Harry doesn’t bother to listen to. Ernie goes on, “Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch’s cat’s attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know — Creevey’s been attacked.” 

Harry scowls. He just didn’t want pictures of himself on the verge of tears in the mud. He  _ likes  _ Colin, he’s adorable, he would  _ never. _

“He always seems so nice, though,” Hannah mutters, “and, well, he’s the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can’t be all bad, can he?” 

Ernie lowers his voice for dramatic effect.

“No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that.” He drops his voice even more,  _ “That’s _ probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn’t want another Dark Lord  _ competing  _ with him. I wonder what other powers Potter’s been hiding?”

At this, Harry clears his throat and steps out from where he had been hiding behind a shelf. 

“Hello,” he says politely. “I was told it was Justin Finch-Fletchley that the snake was attacking and I wanted to explain to him what really happened.”

“We were all there. We saw what happened,” Ernie says.

“Then you noticed that after I spoke to it, the snake backed off?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“All I saw,” Ernie says stubbornly, “was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin.” 

“I didn’t chase it at him!” Harry says, his polite mask falling and revealing his anger. “It didn’t even  _ touch _ him!” 

“It was a very near miss,” he says. “And in case you’re getting ideas,” he adds hastily, “I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood’s as pure as anyone’s, so —” 

“I don’t care what sort of blood you’ve got!” Harry says sharply. “Why would  _ I _ want to attack muggleborns?” 

“I’ve heard you hate those Muggles you live with,” Ernie says quickly. 

Harry tenses slightly. His next words are stiff and only barely concealing his rage because how  _ dare  _ this boy use his relatives against him, even if he doesn’t know exactly what mentioning them in Harry’s safe space does to Harry.

“I’ve every reason to hate the Dursleys. It’s not your place to accuse me of things just because of a rumor, a rumor I’m completely justified in. And if it’s any consolation, I have nothing against Filch, I genuinely like Colin, and  _ my best friend is a muggleborn.  _ I told that snake to leave Justin alone, not attack him. But it’s not like you believe me so this was pointless.”

He turns and leaves, not caring to stick around and hear their response.

He walks slowly, trying to organize his thoughts and calm down. He decides to stop being angry with his friends because he needs to vent to somebody and he was being stupid acting like he was. Plus, he still doesn’t really know how to navigate around the castle by himself and he’s honestly just relying on pure luck to take him back to the common room. And also the portraits, who haven’t stopped him and told him to head the other direction, so he thinks he’s doing good.

He turns a corner and the temperature suddenly drops. He shivers but continues on, used to the castle being drafty, especially during winter. 

Very suddenly, he trips and falls. He scrambles up, hoping desperately that nobody was around to see him fall. He straightens his robes and begins to walk again, only to walk through something that leaves his body feeling like he just got a bucket of ice water dumped on him. He’s just about to ask what ghost he walked through when a voice begins speaking.

“Why, it’s potty wee Potter!” Harry groans internally. “What’s Potter up to? Why’s Potter lurking —” 

Peeves stops. Harry tenses, wondering what in the world could’ve made  _ Peeves  _ stop talking. He briefly thinks that the ghost he just walked through might’ve been the Bloody Baron, but then Peeves is screaming and he understands.

“ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!”

Bang — bang — bang — door after door hit the wall from the force of being thrown open and students flood into the corridor. For a few minutes, there’s just confusion and Harry finds himself pinned to the wall when Professor McGonagall sets off a loud bang that silences everybody and orders them back to class. 

_ “Caught in the act!” _ Ernie’s voice suddenly yells. Harry flinches, wondering when he even arrived at the scene.

“That will do, Macmillan!” Professor McGonagall says sharply.

_ “Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done, You’re killing off students, you think it’s good fun  _ —” 

“That’s enough, Peeves!”

Harry barely listens as Professor McGonagall deals with everything. He’s too busy panicking. He finally tunes back into the world when he hears his name.

“This way, Potter.”

“Professor,” Harry says quickly, “I swear I didn’t —” 

“This is out of my hands, Potter.”

They walk in silence for a long while before she comes to a stop. Harry does as well.

“Lemon drop.” 

She ushers Harry onto a staircase that seems to work like an escalator. Harry very quickly convinces himself of the worst. Professor McGonagall must be taking him to Dumbledore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so so so i know he has a conversation with hagrid at the end of this chapter and hagrid tells him about the dead chickens but shhhh i got lazy so lets pretend he was just walking slow enough that hagrid was already at a different part of the castle   
> percy and oliver :')  
> harry: guys im blind  
> literally anybody who isn't his friend: so anyway look at this  
> it's honestly a wonder this boy doesn't go insane from the sheer amount of times he has to tell people he's blind  
> also james :''') harry and james both being blind brings me great joy and madam pomfrey being so tired but fond of these potter boys also makes me very happy  
> anyway  
> again, school has started and is very stupid and i honestly didn't expect it to drain me as much as it has. school has never been a problem for me and now that it suddenly is i'm like :o so i'll try to stick to the update schedule i had before but don't get your hopes up lmao. i'll most likely update on saturdays or sundays and not at all during the week, if i'm honest, so yeahhh  
> anyway anyway  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	12. The Polyjuice Potion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's here!! i've been planning this chapter for so long. it didn't come out as sad as i thought it would but if you think about it, it is pretty sad and angsty under all the humor.
> 
> so this was mentioned in a comment yesterday and i wanted to address it. harry does have a cane but he has forgotten it at the dursleys each time he leaves for hogwarts. i never planned on him grabbing it after this year either because of the magic thing allowing him to walk around on his own without too much trouble. i'm not sure if it's offensive or not to have him own a cane and not use it at all but if it is, i'll definitely have him grab it and use it in the future! if not, i'll just go with the original plan and have his magic sort of replace it
> 
> i mention a gagging noise at the beginning of the chapter. also draco says m*dbl**d a lot :/
> 
> also i changed christmas to yule because that makes more sense for the vibe of hogwarts :)
> 
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

They step off the staircase and Professor McGonagall knocks on a door sharply. She pushes him in, orders him to wait, and leaves him standing there. 

There’s all sorts of weird sounds around the office. Whistling, whirring, little  _ poofs.  _ Harry is in the middle of wondering what sort of knick-knacks are making them when a sudden gagging noise distracts him. His lip curls and he takes a step back. The thing gags a few more times and then there’s a loud  _ whoosh  _ and a shriek. Harry jumps back and wishes for what has to be the millionth time that he could see so he could figure out what that is. A door opens and Harry swings around.

“Ah, about time,” Dumbledore’s voice says as he closes the door. 

“What  _ was  _ that?” Harry asks.

“Fawkes, my phoenix,” Dumbledore says, walking past Harry to most likely get to his desk. “He’s been looking dreadful for the past few days, I was wondering when he would die.”

Harry blinks. “Your bird just  _ died?” _

“Don’t worry, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flames when it’s time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly  _ faithful  _ pets…”

Harry is about to say something when the door suddenly bursts open. He jumps and turns back around.

“It wasn’ Harry, Professor Dumbledore!” Hagrid’s voice says urgently. Harry feels a pang of guilt. He hasn’t visited Hagrid since the incident with the slugs. “I saw him in the corridor  _ seconds _ before that kid was found, he never had time, sir —” 

Dumbledore starts to say something but Hagrid barrels on. Harry fights to keep a smile off his face at listening to Hagrid defend him so vehemently.

“— it can’t’ve bin him, I’ll swear it in front o’ the Ministry o’ Magic if I have to —”

“Hagrid, I —” 

“— yeh’ve got the wrong boy, sir, I  _ know _ Harry never —” 

_ “Hagrid!” _ Dumbledore says loudy. Hagrid stops. “I do  _ not  _ think that Harry attacked those people.” 

“Oh,” Hagrid says. “Right. I’ll wait outside then, Headmaster.”

Harry waits until the door is shut to ask, “You don’t think I did it, Professor?”

“No, Harry, I don’t,” Dumbledore says. “But I still want to talk to you.” 

There’s a long moment of silence. Harry shifts his weight from one foot to the other nervously.

“I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you’d like to tell me,” he says gently. “Anything at all.”

Harry blinks. He thinks about the Polyjuice Potion, about the voice nobody but him can hear, about people thinking he’s the Heir of Slytherin. There’s a million things he could say right now and if he trusted Dumbledore a little more than he currently does, he might say some of them, but instead, he stands up straighter and says, “No. There isn’t anything, Professor.”

Ron and Hermione are confused when Harry tells them what happened in Dumbledore’s office. They wonder what Dumbledore wanted Harry to say and Harry wonders too but he supposes they’ll never find out so he just tells them to drop it.

The news about the double attack spreads even quicker than the news about Colin did. There’s a sudden rush of people signing up to go home for the holidays but Harry, Ron, and Hermione aren’t part of it, however much Hermione wishes she could go home. Harry and Ron continue to tell her she can go home if she wants to and she continues to tell them that what they’re doing is more important than her relationship with her sister. Harry can tell that she doesn’t actually believe that but he doesn’t call her out on it. 

Fred and George think the Heir of Slytherin thing is ridiculous and Harry loves it. They walk around with him, Ron, and Hermione, shouting at students to get out of the way for the Heir of Slytherin. Harry thinks it’s hilarious but Percy and Ginny don’t. Percy keeps telling them to stop joking about it and Ginny keeps yelling at them to stop talking about the attacks. Harry forces the twins to quit bringing up the attacks but tells them they can still joke about him being the Heir. He doesn’t want to make Ginny hate him but he thinks Percy getting his knickers in a twist is very funny.

Malfoy seems to be getting increasingly aggravated about Fred and George’s antics. It amuses Harry greatly but just fuels Ron and Hermione’s theory even more. Harry has given up trying to convince them to stop.

At last, the term ends. Silence settles over the castle and Harry finds it very peaceful. Fred, George, Ginny, and Percy also chose to stay over the break instead of visiting Bill in Egypt with Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley. Percy continues to remind them that he doesn’t find their childish antics funny and locks himself in his dorm. According to George, he’s been sending a lot of letters with his owl, Hermes, because Hermes is always gone when George visits the owlery. Harry asks him why he visits the owlery so much and George happily tells him that he likes giving all the school owls treats because not many people do and they deserve it. Fred pokes fun at him but eventually admits that he also does it sometimes. Harry loves learning these little things about his best friend’s family but he doesn’t say that out loud.

Yule morning comes quickly. Harry and Ron are the only ones left in their dormitory and are woken up very early by Hermione bursting in.

“Wake up!”

“Hermione, this is the  _ boys  _ dorm,” Ron groans.

“Happy Yule to you, too,” Hermione says. She throws a present at Harry and Harry groans when it hits his chest. “I’ve been up for nearly an hour, adding more lacewings to the potion. It’s ready.” 

Harry sits up quickly. 

“Really?” he squeaks.

“Really,” Hermione says. Harry sighs loudly. “If we’re going to do it, I say it should be tonight.” 

Something suddenly lands on Harry’s thigh. 

He smiles, “Hello, Hedwig. Are you finally speaking to me again?” 

She drops a small package on his lap and nips his finger affectionately when he reaches out to pet her.

The gift turns out to be a toothpick and a note from the Dursleys asking him if it’s possible for him to stay over summer break too. Harry wishes it was. He snaps the toothpick in half for his own satisfaction and drops it on the floor. 

After giving Hedwig a few treats, he opens his other presents. From Hagrid, he gets a large tin of treacle toffee. From Ron, he gets a book titled  _ Flying with the Cannons,  _ which is all about Ron’s favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. From Hermione, he gets a fancy quill that feels very soft when he runs his fingers over it’s feather and from Mrs. Weasley, he gets a new sweater and a plum cake. He slips the sweater over his head immediately and sighs happily at the warmth that surrounds his body. 

The feast later is as magnificent as Harry remembers and he enjoys himself immensely, up until Hermione ushers them out of the Great Hall and begins finalizing their plans.

“We still need a bit of the people you’re changing into,” she says in her matter-of-fact tone that has been getting on Harry’s nerves recently. “And obviously, it’ll be best if you can get something of Crabbe’s and Goyle’s; they’re Malfoy’s best friends, he’ll tell them anything. And we also need to make sure the real Crabbe and Goyle can’t burst in on us while we’re interrogating him. 

“I’ve got it all worked out,” she continues, ignoring Harry attempts to interrupt and say something that would no doubt make her angry. “I’ve filled these cakes with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they are, they’re bound to eat them. Once they’re asleep, pull out a few of their hairs and hide them in a broom closet.”

Harry blinks and then laughs disbelievingly. Ron does as well.

“Hermione, I don’t think —” 

“That could go seriously wrong —” 

“The potion will be useless without Crabbe’s and Goyle’s hair,” Hermione says sternly, sounding like Professor McGonagall. “You do want to investigate Malfoy, don’t you?” 

“No, actually, thanks for asking,” Harry says.

“Harry James,” she says sharply.

“Hermione Jean,” he mocks.

There’s a tense beat of silence. 

Ron breaks it, sounding very reluctant to interrupt their mini fight, “Whose hair are you getting, Mione?”

Hermione clears her throat, “I’ve already got mine. Remember Millicent Bulstrode wrestling with me at the Dueling Club? She left a hair on my robes when she was trying to strangle me. And she’s gone home for Yule — so I’ll just have to tell the Slytherins I’ve decided to come back.”

She rushes off to check on the potion and Harry sighs in defeat. “Christ, have you ever heard of a plan where so many things could go wrong?”

But, to Harry and Ron’s amazement, the cake plan works. Harry is kind of stuck on the fact that they’re drugging two people but, again, he’s accepted that he’s not going to change his friends’ minds about this. Once they’ve dragged the unconscious Crabbe and Goyle into a broom cupboard, they take some hair and their shoes and then rush back to the bathroom.

“Hermione?” 

The stall unlocks.

“Did you get them?” she asks. Harry holds up Goyle’s hair. 

“Good. And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry,” she says. “You’ll need bigger sizes once you’re Crabbe and Goyle.” 

Harry resists the urge to point out how bad of an idea this again.

“I’m sure I’ve done everything right,” Hermione says. “It looks like the book says it should… once we’ve drunk it, we’ll have exactly an hour before we change back into ourselves.” 

“Now what?” Ron asks nervously.

“We separate it into three glasses and add the hairs.”

Hermione does just that. Once all three glasses have the hairs in them, Harry does the wise thing and suggests they go to different stalls. 

Once inside his own stall with the door locked, he asks, “Ready?” 

“Ready,” Ron and Hermione confirm. 

“One — two — three —”

He pinches his nose and drinks the potions in two large gulps. It’s not the most painful thing he’s ever experienced but it’s definitely up there. He squeezes his eyes shut and attempts to focus on something that isn’t his body changing and morphing into something much larger than usual. As suddenly as the pain starts, it stops. He opens his eyes and a scream leaves him before he can stop it.

“What? What’s wrong?” a voice that must be Crabbe’s voice says.

“I can see!” Harry says, looking around wildly. “Holy  _ shit,  _ I can see!”

He changes into Goyle’s robes and shoes quickly and stumbles out of the stall, looking in the mirror and examining Goyle’s face. Ron, or Crabbe, comes out of his stall and Harry spins around to look at him.

He groans, “Of course, when I finally get my sight back, you look like a different person. And I won’t get to see what I look like either, or Hermione.”

“You’ll get to see Hogwarts,” Ron says. “And Malfoy…”

Harry makes a face, “Gross. We’d better get going. We’ve still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is. I only hope we can find someone to follow…”

“You don’t know how bizarre it is to see Goyle thinking.” Harry snorts. Ron walks over and knocks on Hermione’s stall. “C’mon, we need to go —” 

Hermione’s voice is high and embarrassed when she speaks. “I — I don’t think I’m going to come after all. You go on without me.” 

“Hermione, I know Millicent Bulstrode’s ugly, no one’s going to know it’s you —” 

“No — really — I don’t think I’ll come. You two hurry up, you’re wasting time —” 

Harry gives Ron a confused look.

“That looks more like Goyle,” Ron says. “That’s how he looks every time a teacher asks him a question.” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “Hermione, are you okay?” 

“Fine — I’m fine — go on —” 

Harry looks at Ron’s watch. Five of their sixty minutes have already passed. 

“We’ll meet you back here, all right?”

The two leave the bathroom. Harry finds himself distracted by the way Hogwarts looks and almost wants to take a detour and go see what the Great Hall looks like but he knows they don’t have time. 

Ron points out the entrance of the dungeons just as a girl emerges from it.

“Excuse me,” Ron rushes over. “We’ve forgotten the way to our common room.” 

“I beg your pardon?” she says stiffly.  _ “Our  _ common room?  _ I’m _ a Ravenclaw.”

She walks off, giving them a suspicious look. 

Harry blinks. “Christ, you’ve no idea how weird it is to see facial expressions. I normally have to determine your feelings by the tone of your voice…”

They head down into the dungeons.

“I wish you could’ve seen my face before I was Crabbe,” Ron mutters.

“Yeah, me too,” Harry says. “I want to see how different you look from how I’ve been imagining you. And what a redhead  _ actually  _ looks like because actual red hair doesn’t sound natural.”

“It’s more orange than anything.”

A figure appears up ahead and they quickly run over, only to have their hopes crushed when they realize it’s not a Slytherin. Harry’s eyes widen, though, because it’s Percy and  _ that’s  _ what red hair looks like! And the red and gold of Gryffindor looks just like how he imagined it, which is cool. 

“What’re you doing down here?” Ron asks in surprise.

Percy looks quite offended. 

“That,” he says stiffly, “is none of your business. It’s Crabbe, isn’t it?”

“Wh — oh, yeah,” Ron says.

“Well, get off to your dormitories,” Percy says sternly. “It’s not safe to go wandering around dark corridors these days.” 

_ “You _ are,” Ron remarks.

“I,” Percy draws himself up to his full height, “am a prefect. Nothing’s about to attack _ me.” _

“There you are,” Malfoy’s voice says. Ron and Harry swing around. Malfoy looks just as pompous as Harry imagined he would. “Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I’ve been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny.”

He looks at Percy with a look of disgust on his face.

“And what’re you doing down here, Weasley?” he sneers. Harry suddenly understands what Ron meant when he told him he’s starting to look like Malfoy with all his scowling.

Percy looks positively outraged.

“You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!” he says. “I don’t like your attitude!” 

Malfoy scowls and then motions for Ron and Harry to follow him. They’re quick to do so. As they turn into the next passage, Malfoy says, “That Peter Weasley —” 

“Percy,” Ron corrects automatically.

“Whatever,” Malfoy says. “I’ve noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he’s up to. He thinks he’s going to catch Slytherin’s heir single-handed.”

He gives a derisive laugh. Harry shares a look with Ron, which is something very weird that he can do now.

They stop in front of a bare wall.

“What’s the new password again?” Malfoy asks Harry.

“Er —”

“Oh, yeah —  _ pureblood.” _

A door previously concealed in the wall slides open. Malfoy marches inside, Harry and Ron following quickly.

The Slytherin common room is actually very nice and cozy. He assumes with the house being full of rich, spoiled purebloods that they get the best of everything, including living spaces. He can only imagine how nice their dorms are.

“Wait here,” Malfoy says, pushing them toward a pair of empty chairs. “I’ll go and get it — my father’s just sent it to me —” 

Harry and Ron sit down, doing their best to look at home. Malfoy comes back a minute later, carrying what must be a newspaper clipping. He thrusts it under Ron’s nose.

“That’ll give you a laugh,” he says.

Harry sees Ron’s eyes widen in shock. He reads it quickly, gives a forced laugh, and then shoves it into Harry’s hand.

Harry looks down at the clipping and is horrified to find that he can’t make out the words. He guesses that it makes sense, him not being able to read, but it puts a damper on the amazement of seeing again. He forces a laugh and hands the clipping back to Malfoy, his previously happy mood gone.

“Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them,” Malfoy says. “You’d never know the Weasleys were purebloods, the way they behave.” 

Ron’s face, which is actually Crabbe’s, is contorted in anger.

“What’s up with you, Crabbe?” Malfoy snaps.

“Stomachache,” Ron grunts.

“Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me,” Malfoy says, snickering. “You know, I’m surprised the  _ Daily Prophet _ hasn’t reported all these attacks yet,” he says, looking thoughtful. “I suppose Dumbledore’s trying to hush it all up. He’ll be sacked if it doesn’t stop soon. Father’s always said old Dumbledore’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to this place. He loves muggleborns. A decent headmaster would never’ve let slime like that Creevey in.”

He holds up an imaginary camera and begins to do an impression of Colin. “‘Potter, can I have  your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?’”

He drops his hands and looks at Harry and Ron.

“What’s the  _ matter _ with you two?”

Way too late, Ron and Harry give a few fake laughs, but it seems to satisfy Malfoy.

“Saint Potter, the Mudbloods’ friend,” Malfoy says slowly. “He’s another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn’t go around with that jumped-up Granger Mudblood. And people think he’s Slytherin’s heir!” 

Ron leans forward slightly and Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“I wish I knew who it is,” Malfoy says, sounding like a child who didn’t get want he wanted for his birthday. “I could help them.” 

Ron’s jaw drops and Harry almost laughs in triumph. Wanting to rub his victory in Ron’s face, he says, “You must have some idea who’s behind it all…”

“You know I haven’t, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?” Malfoy snaps. “And Father won’t tell me  _ anything _ about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it’ll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing — last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood  _ died. _ So I bet it’s a matter of time before one of them’s killed this time… I hope it’s Granger.”

Ron is clenching Crabbe’s fists and Harry, not wanting Ron to punch Malfoy and give them away, asks quickly, “D’you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?” 

“Oh, yeah… whoever it was was expelled,” Malfoy says. “They’re probably still in Azkaban.” 

“Azkaban?” Harry says.

“Azkaban —  _ the wizard prison,  _ Goyle,” Malfoy gives him a look of disbelief. “Honestly, if you were any slower, you’d be going backward.” 

He suddenly sighs, “Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he’s got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?” 

Harry fakes a look of concern.

“Yeah…” Malfoy rests his head on his hand, looking both bored and worried at the same time. “Luckily, they didn’t find much. Father’s got some  _ very  _ valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we’ve got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor —” 

“Oh!”

Malfoy’s head snaps up and he looks at Ron. Harry does too. Ron blushes. Harry notices his hair beginning to turn red and his nose lengthening. His sight is slowly going away. Their hour is up.

They both jump to their feet.

“Medicine for my stomach,” Ron says and then they’re running out of the common room.

By the time they reach the entrance hall, Harry’s vision is completely gone. He finds himself actually happy about it. Having sight wasn't as amazing as he thought it would be. Plus, he didn't even get to see his friends' faces, just the faces of people he doesn't even like, disregarding Percy. They leave their shoes outside of the closet they locked Crabbe and Goyle in and then sprint back to Myrtle’s bathroom.

“Well, it wasn’t a complete waste of time,” Ron pants, closing the bathroom door behind them. Harry scoffs. “I know, you were right, whatever. I’m going to write to Dad tomorrow and tell him to check under the Malfoys’ drawing room.”

“Yeah, I was right,” Harry says loudly, hoping Hermione hears him clearly. “And I told you so!”

“Go away!” Hermione shouts.

Harry blinks.

“What’s the matter?” Ron asks. “You must be back to normal by now, we are —” 

“Ooooooh, wait till you see,” Myrtle’s voice suddenly says. “It’s  _ awful _ —” 

The stall unlocks and the door squeaks as it opens. Hermione sounds like she’s sobbing.

“What’s up?” Ron says nervously. “Have you still got Millicent’s nose or something?” 

Ron suddenly chokes and reaches out to grip Harry’s arm. Harry figures he’s either trying not to laugh or trying to hide his shock.

“It was a c-cat hair!” Hermione cries. “M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the p-potion isn’t supposed to be used for animal transformations!” 

“Oh no,” Harry mutters.

“You’ll be teased something  _ dreadful,” _ Myrtle says happily. 

“It’s okay, Hermione,” Harry says quickly. “We’ll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions…”

It takes a long time but they finally manage to convince Hermione to leave the bathroom. Myrtle follows them and gives a loud cackle. “Wait till everyone finds out you’ve got a  _ tail!”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hagrid is so amazing !!!!! the original father figure and the only one who didn't DIE i love him so much :')  
> george and fred being pure and giving the school owls treats :') i have so many headcanons about these boys it's not even funny  
> also harry and ron straight up drugged crabbe and goyle. like they did that. i just :/  
> harry gets sight!!! i read some articles about people who got their sight back after being blind for their whole lives and then being so disappointed in the way the world looks and that's how i imagine harry feeling. like it's awesome at first but then he realizes he can't read and that he didn't get to see his friends' faces and he only got to see the dungeons of hogwarts and it slowly gets less awesome until he's just like 'damn. seeing actually sucks.' and i just :(  
> also can you figure out what the battle of the seven potters is gonna be like yet? absolute chaos that's what. i can't wait.  
> cat hermione cat hermione cat hermione cat hermione cat hermi-  
> anyway  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	13. The Very Secret Diary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, on the topic of the cane, harry will not have it for the remainder of this book but he will grab it at the beginning of poa and have it from there on out :)
> 
> not me only finding out today that a diary means a datebook in britain. i really thought voldemort had an actual diary LMAO
> 
> i mention the slug incident :/
> 
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Hermione has to stay in the hospital wing for several weeks after the cat incident. When term starts back up, rumors start going around about her disappearance and whether or not she’d been attacked. She wasn’t, of course, but she told Harry and Ron not to tell anybody so they can’t debunk the rumor like they want to.

They visit her every evening and when term starts back up, they bring her homework with them.

“If I’d sprouted whiskers, I’d take a break from work,” Ron says one evening.

“Don’t be silly, Ron, I’ve got to keep up,” Hermione tells him, like she does every time he says something about her taking a break. Tonight, her spirits are lifted because, according to Madam Pomfrey, all the hair is gone from her face and her eyes are slowly returning to their normal brown color instead of bright yellow.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got any new leads?” she adds, whispering so Madam Pomfrey can’t hear her.

“Nothing,” Harry shrugs.

“I was so sure it was Malfoy,” Ron mutters. Harry can’t even begin to count how many times his best friend has said that since they broke into the Slytherin common room.

“And guess who told you it wasn’t?” Harry says like he always does.

“Oh, piss off,” Ron kicks Harry’s foot and he smirks. “What’s that, Mione?”

“Just a get well card,” Hermione says hastily.

There’s a flurry of movement before Ron begins reading, _ “To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five time winner of  _ Witch Weekly’s _ Most-Charming-Smile Award.”  _

There’s a beat of silence that has Harry holding in a laugh.

“You sleep with this under your  _ pillow?” _ Ron says, rightfully disgusted.

Madam Pomfrey swoops in to deliver Hermione’s evening dose of medicine, sparing her the pain of finding an answer to get Ron to lay off. Harry and Ron say goodnight and leave.

“Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you’ve ever met, or what?” Ron says as they walk back to Gryffindor Tower.

“I’m so glad I didn’t have to see him when I had sight,” Harry says.

It’s the first time Harry has brought up the fact that he could see for an hour and Ron quickly seizes the opportunity to talk about it.

“What was it like?” he asks. “Seeing?”

Harry shrugs, “Not very cool, honestly. I suppose I had my hopes up because the last time I could see, I was so young and everything was so bright and pretty but… well, that’s not what I saw this time. And I  _ know  _ we were in the dungeons but still.”

“So… you don’t want to see again?”

“Not really,” Harry says. “I couldn’t even read. I felt like a four-year-old, staring at that newspaper clipping, I couldn’t make out any of the letters!”

“You couldn’t read?”

“No! I never learned before I went blind. I’ve only read braille since I was seven-years-old and before that, I could never see clearly enough to read properly. It just… wasn’t everything I imagined it would be. I think I’ll stick with being blind for now.”

Ron is spared the struggle of responding to that by a furious shout from the floor above, most definitely from Filch. Harry and Ron stop walking, consider their options (go back to Gryffindor Tower and do Snape’s homework or go and see what has Filch so angry), and then rush upstairs.

_ “— even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven’t got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I’m going to Dumbledore —” _

Harry hears receding footsteps and distant door slam. He blinks. What the  _ hell  _ happened?

“Myrtle,” Ron says, obviously disappointed. “She flooded the bathroom.”

“Well, it’s either Myrtle or Snape’s essay,” Harry says.

“Let’s go,” Ron tugs Harry down the corridor and Harry laughs.

They enter Myrtle’s bathroom, their shoes and socks steadily becoming soaking wet.

“What’s up, Myrtle?” Harry asks loudly, making sure she can hear him over her wailing.

“Who’s that?” Myrtle sniffles obnoxiously. “Come to throw something else at me?” 

Harry walks toward her voice, “Why would I throw something at you?” 

“Don’t ask me,” Myrtle shouts. “Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it’s funny to throw a book at me…”

“But it can’t hurt you if someone throws something at you,” Harry says, trying to calm her down. “I mean, it’d just go right through you, wouldn’t it?” 

This does not calm her down. In fact, it makes it worse.

She begins shrieking, “Let’s all throw books at Myrtle, because _ she _ can’t feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I  _ don’t _ think!” 

“Who threw it at you, anyway?” Harry asks.

_ “I _ don’t know… I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head,” Myrtle says. “It’s over there, it got washed out…”

Harry blinks.

“Over here,” Ron says, grabbing Harry’s wrist and pulling him over. “It’s under the sink.”

Harry immediately reaches down to pick it up, his self-preservation skills really kicking in. Ron stops him quickly.

_ “What  _ are you doing?”

“Picking it up?” 

“It could be  _ dangerous,  _ Harry! Honestly, you’d think you  _ hadn’t  _ been almost murdered last year…”

“What does  _ that  _ have to do with a book, Ronald?” Harry crosses his arms.

“I’m just saying! You should be more careful,” Ron says. “You’d be surprised at all the bewitched books my dad has found.”

“Fine,” Harry says, faking surrender. Ron lets out a breath of relief and Harry quickly swoops down and picks up the book.

_ “Harry!” _

“We won’t find out unless we open it,” Harry grins. He flips the book open. “See? No curses. I’m perfectly fine.”

Ron sighs and snatches the book out of Harry’s hands, earning a noise of protest from the boy. “T. M. Riddle.”

“Hm?”

Ron makes a noise of disgust, “T. M. Riddle won an award fifty years ago for special services toward the school. It’s in the trophy room, I scrubbed a hundred times. It’s a diary.”

“Why is a fifty-year-old diary just lying around?”

“It’s empty,” Ron says. “I wonder why somebody wanted to throw it away…”

Harry purses his lips.

“He bought it at a store on Vauxhall Road, London,” Ron mutters. 

“Must’ve been a muggleborn,” Harry says. 

“Well, it’s not much use to us,” Ron says. He drops his voice, “Fifty points if you can get it through Myrtle’s nose.”

Harry, however, grabs it from Ron and pockets it.

Hermione finally leaves the hospital wing at the beginning of February. On her first night back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry decides to show her the diary and get her opinion on it.

“Ooh, it might have hidden powers,” is what she says. She grabs it from Harry’s hands. 

“If it has, it’s hiding them very well,” Ron says. “Maybe it’s shy. I don’t know why you don’t chuck it, Harry.” 

“I wish I knew why someone did try to chuck it,” Harry says. “I wouldn’t mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts either.” 

“Could’ve been anything,” Ron says. “Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.s or saved a teacher from the giant squid. Maybe he murdered Myrtle; that would’ve done everyone a favor…” 

Harry purses his lips, thinking.

“What?” Ron says, sounding slightly fearful. Harry imagines Hermione has the same look on her face that he has on his.

“Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn’t it?” Harry says. “That’s what Malfoy said.” 

“Yeah…” Ron says slowly.

“And this diary is fifty years old,” Hermione continues.

“So?” 

“Oh, Ron, wake up,” Hermione snaps. “We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled  _ fifty years ago. _ We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school  _ fifty years ago. _ Well, what if Riddle got his special award for _ catching the Heir of Slytherin? _ His diary would probably tell us everything — where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it — the person who’s behind the attacks this time wouldn’t want that lying around, would they?” 

“That’s a _ brilliant _ theory, Hermione,” Ron says, “with just one tiny little flaw.  _ There’s nothing written in his diary.”  _

“It might be invisible ink!” Hermione whispers excitedly. She does something and then says,  _ “Aparecium.” _

There’s a beat of silence. There’s some rustling.

“It’s a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley,” Hermione says and Harry furrows his eyebrows in mild confusion.

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing to find in there,” Ron insists. “Riddle just got a diary for Yule and couldn’t be bothered filling it in.” 

Harry wishes he could explain why he doesn’t just throw the diary away. More often than not, he finds himself opening it and running his fingers along the pages, hoping for something to happen. He knows it won’t, the diary isn’t magical so if there are words, they won’t change into braille for him. There’s just something about it. The name T. M. Riddle sounds almost familiar, too, like he was an old friend or something, which doesn’t make sense because Harry’s only friend before Hogwarts was a girl named Polly who was also blind. Even then, he wasn’t very close with her! She didn’t appreciate his jokes…

But even knowing all this, Harry still can’t shake Riddle from his mind. During break the next day, Harry drags an enthusiastic Hermione and a thoroughly unconvinced Ron to the trophy room. Ron tells them he’s seen enough of the trophy room for one lifetime but still accompanies them.

Nothing comes of their little adventure. Riddle’s special services trophy gives them no information and the only other places they find his name is on a Medal for Magical Merit and on a list of old Head Boys.

“He sounds like Percy,” Ron says. “Prefect, Head Boy… probably top of every class…”

“Oh, honestly, Ron, we talked about this…”

There have been no more attacks since Sir Nicholas and Justin and hope seems to be returning to the students and professors. Madam Pomfrey tells everyone that the Mandrakes have become moody and secretive, meaning they’re leaving childhood fast. 

Ernie MacMillan still hasn’t given up on his theory that Harry is guilty and he's gotten a lot of the school to agree with him. Peeves isn’t helping, with his “Oh, Potter, you rotter…” and now, according to Ron, he has a dance routine to go with the song. 

Lockhart seems to think it was  _ him  _ who stopped the attacks. Harry hears him talking to Professor McGonagall one day while the Gryffindors are lining up for Transfiguration.

“I don’t think there’ll be any more trouble, Minerva,” he says. “I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught him. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on him. 

“You know, what the school needs now is a morale-booster. Wash away the memories of last term! I won’t say any more just now, but I think I know just the thing…”

This morale-booster becomes clear when February fourteenth rolls around. 

Ron fakes a gag when they enter the Great Hall for breakfast.

“Don’t tell me,” Harry says just as Ron takes in a breath to start explaining. “I don’t want to know.”

They sit down with Hermione and ignore her giggling. She seems to be talking to her roommates about something.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Lockhart shouts once everyone falls silent. “And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn’t end here!” 

Lockhart claps his hands together and Harry hears a lot of footsteps. He furrows his eyebrows.

“My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” Lockhart exclaims. “They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here! I’m sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!”

“Please, Hermione, tell me you weren’t one of the forty-six,” Ron says as they leave to head to their first lesson.

Hermione doesn’t answer.

Harry thanks whatever deity watching over him for the fact that everybody hates him currently. He could not  _ imagine  _ the amount of valentines he would get if he was still in the school’s good spirits.

He honestly isn’t expecting one because of the fact that everybody hates him but when he hears, “Oy, you! ’Arry Potter!” while on his way to Charms, he immediately ducks behind Ron’s back and pushes him to go faster.

They get one step in before the dwarf reaches them.

“I’ve got a musical message to deliver to ’Arry Potter in person,” he says.

_ “Not here,” _ Harry hisses, pushing Ron harder. Ron is snickering but is allowing Harry to push him forward.

“Stay  _ still!” _ the dwarf grabs Harry’s bag to stop him.

“Let me go!” Harry scowls, tugging at his bag.

There’s a loud ripping noise and Harry hears the contents of his bag spill all over the floor. His ink bottle hits the ground with a loud shatter. His scowl deepens and he drops to his knees, scrambling to pick everything up. Ron helps him.

“What’s going on here?” comes Draco Malfoy’s drawling voice. Harry is sure he looks murderous by now, and his hands are covered in sticky, scarlet ink. He really shouldn’t buy red ink when he’s always on the verge of murder in this godforsaken school.

“What’s all this commotion?” Percy’s voice says.

Harry, now completely losing his head, just stands and tries to make a run for it. The dwarf, however, seizes him around the knees and brings him crashing down to the ground. 

“Right,” he says, plopping himself down on Harry’s ankles and ignoring his thrashing movements. “Here is your singing valentine: 

_ His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,  _

_ His hair is as dark as a blackboard.  _

_ I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,  _

_ The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.”  _

He lays on the ground, accepting his fate as the dwarf stands and marches off. Ron, who is no longer amused, grabs Harry’s hands and pulls him off the floor.

“Might wanna test out that cleaning charm now,” Ron mutters. Harry gives him a weak smile.

“Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now,” Percy says loudly. “And  _ you, _ Malfoy —” 

Ron tenses and drops Harry’s hands (Harry immediately begins blushing when he realizes they were just holding hands), turning around and says firmly, “Give that back.”

“Wonder what Potter’s written in this?” Malfoy says. Harry realizes quickly that he must be holding Riddle’s diary.

Everybody watching them goes quiet.

“Hand it over, Malfoy,” Percy says sternly. (Harry notes silently that he and Ron sound similar when demanding things and also makes a note to himself to ask whether or not Ron and Percy used to be close.) 

“When I’ve had a look,” Malfoy says tauntingly.

“As a school prefect —”

Harry hears Ron reach for his wand and quickly grabs his friend’s wrist. The last thing they need is Ron puking slugs all throughout Charms. 

There’s loud page turning from Malfoy and Harry smirks, his usual impish tendencies coming back.

“Gonna tell everyone my juicy secrets, Malfoy?” Harry says. “Perhaps when my last doctor’s appointment was?”

“Piss off, Potter,” Malfoy growls. Harry expertly catches the book with one hand when it’s thrown at him. Malfoy, now very furious about the diary being empty and looking for somebody else to take his anger out on, says loudly, “I don’t think Potter liked your valentine much, Weasley!”

Ron tugs at the grip Harry has around his wrist but Harry quickly pulls him away.

“He didn’t mean you or Percy, right?” Harry asks after a moment.

“Ginny,” Ron says. “They usually call her  _ Weaslette,  _ I bet he wanted to confuse you or something.”

“That’s unoriginal,” Harry remarks. “That’s just like  _ Girl Weasley  _ or something, it’s stupid.”

“You really should clean your hands, Harry,” Ron says instead of continuing the conversation.

“Right, sorry,” Harry lets go of Ron’s wrist.

He points his wand at his hand and says quietly,  _ “Scourgify.” _

His hand tingles for a moment and then goes back to normal.

“That’s brilliant, Harry!” Hermione says. “What’s the incantation?”

Harry spends the rest of the walk to Charms teaching the other Gryffindors  _ Scourgify  _ and only gets a small reprimand from Professor Flitwick for doing magic in the corridors. He seems to be too impressed and proud of Harry to punish him properly. Harry wonders why.

It’s only when he sits down at his usual seat that he finally realizes that the diary seems untouched by his ink. While he had to cast the cleaning charm on his other supplies, he never had to on the diary. It’s almost like it absorbed the ink. He attempts to point this out to Hermione and Ron but they’re both focused on Ron’s wand.

Harry only gets one other valentine and it’s very obviously from the Quidditch team. He wonders when they all had the time to sit down and write a poem for him during the day and he especially wonders how they managed to convince Oliver to do it.

He goes to bed early that night. Mostly because he wants to examine Riddle’s diary but also because he doesn’t think he can handle hearing Fred and George sing “His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad” one more time.

The diary isn’t magical so no matter what, it’s always going to be empty to Harry. It’s just interesting that there isn’t ink all over it.

Acting on pure impulse, he grabs a new jar of ink from his bedside table and a quill. He dips the quill into the ink and hesitates before simply writing on the paper, “My name is Harry Potter.”

There’s a beat of silence and Harry seriously wonders where he was going with that. He jumps probably a foot in the air, though, when a voice suddenly appears out of nowhere.

_ “Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?” _

It reminds him of the Sorting Hat. He wonders if anybody else could hear Riddle if they walked in the dorm.

“Someone tried to flush it down a toilet,” Harry writes.

Riddle’s voice responds. It’s slightly disorienting but Harry adjusts quickly.

_ “Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read.” _

“What do you mean?” Harry quickly writes, his shock being replaced by excitement.

_ “I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”  _

“That’s where I am now,” Harry writes. “I’m at Hogwarts, and horrible stuff’s been happening. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?” 

Riddle’s voice comes out rushed. He sounds excited as he talks.

_ “Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who’d opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned.”  _

Harry’s hand knocks against his ink bottle and it topples over. He can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. “It’s happening again now. There have been three attacks and no one seems to know who’s behind them. Who was it last time?” 

_ “I can show you, if you like,”  _ Riddle’s voice becomes sly and Harry barely catches it. His excitement dies a little bit but he’s too curious to call Riddle out on manipulating him, if that’s what Riddle is even doing. _ “You don’t have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him.” _

Harry hesitates. 

_ “Let me show you.” _

“I’m blind.”

_ “Magic works in mysterious ways, Harry Potter.” _

He thinks about the mirror he got the Philosopher’s Stone out of. He saw in his mind what he would’ve seen through his eyes if he weren’t blind. 

“OK.”

Almost like a TV turning on, Harry finds himself watching, and standing in, what seems to be a memory. 

Actually watching.

He’s standing in somebody’s office. It’s a circular room filled with portraits of sleeping people. Sitting at the desk is a tired, frail looking old man reading a letter in the candlelight. 

Harry wonders if this is Dumbledore. If so, he’s very disappointed. He expected Dumbledore to look very different.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Enter,” the man says.

A boy enters, probably about sixteen. He’s wearing a green and silver tie and has a prefect’s badge on his chest. He takes off his pointed hat and Harry notes silently that his black hair falls in a much more graceful way than his own. All in all, the boy is very handsome and Harry finds himself desperately pushing away those thoughts and trying to focus on what’s happening.

“Ah, Riddle.”

“You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?” Riddle says. His previously impassive face quickly becomes one of nervousness. Harry very much likes being able to see facial expressions, because now he knows for  _ sure  _ that Riddle is manipulating him. Harry hopes, for his own sake, that Riddle at least shows him the truth. 

“Sit down,” Dippet says. “I’ve just been reading the letter you sent me.” 

“Oh,” Riddle says, a look of real panic crossing over his face for a split second. He sits down quickly but gracefully, clasping his hands together in his lap tightly. 

“My dear boy,” Dippet says gently, “I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?” 

“No,” Riddle says, his mask falling, “I’d much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that — to that —”

“You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?” Dippet says curiously.

“Yes, sir,” Riddle schools his expressions again, though his cheeks redden slightly. 

“You are muggleborn?” 

“Halfblood, sir,” Riddle says. “Muggle father, witch mother.” 

“And are both your parents — ?” 

“My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me — Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather.” 

Dippet gives him a sympathetic look that pisses even Harry off.

“The thing is, Tom,” Dippet sighs, “special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances…” 

“You mean all these attacks, sir?” Riddle raises his eyebrows. 

“Precisely,” Dippet nods. “My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy… the death of that poor little girl… You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the — er — source of all this unpleasantness…” 

Riddle looks very panicked by this statement.

“Sir — if the person was caught — if it all stopped —” 

“What do you mean?” Dippet sits up in his chair. “Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?” 

“No, sir,” Riddle says quickly.

Dippet sits back, looking disappointed.

“You may go, Tom…”

Harry follows Riddle all the way to the corridor, where he stops and thinks for a long moment. Harry waits patiently and quickly follows Riddle when he rushes off.

They reach the entrance hall before another person appears.

“What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?” 

Harry recognizes the voice.  _ This  _ is Dumbledore. A fifty-year-younger Dumbledore with long, auburn hair and a beard. 

“I had to see the headmaster, sir,” Riddle says easily.

“Well, hurry off to bed,” Dumbledore says, giving Riddle a penetrating stare. Harry wonders if Dumbledore gives  _ him  _ that same stare. “Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since…”

He sighs heavily. He says goodnight to Riddle and walks away. Riddle watches him walk away until he’s out of sight, a scowl on his face, and then he rushes off toward the dungeons.

Riddle leads him to the same dungeon he has Potions with Snape in. He pushes the door almost closed and Harry watches him do… nothing.

He stands like a statue and watches the passageway outside like a hawk. 

Harry is just beginning to wish the memory could end already when there’s finally movement outside. Whoever it is passes by the dungeon he and Riddle are in. Riddle, moving so quietly and smoothly he looks like a shadow, pulls the door open silently and slips out, following the person. Harry follows them as well.

For about five minutes, they follow the heavy footfalls of this person. Riddle stops very suddenly and Harry, instead of ramming into Riddle’s back, falls through his body. He quickly refocuses on what’s happening instead of that.

“C’mon… gotta get yeh outta here… C’mon now… in the box…” 

Harry furrows his eyebrows. He thinks he might recognize that voice…

Riddle jumps around the corner. Harry follows and sees the dark outline of a huge boy crouched in front of an open door that has a very large box next to it. 

“Evening, Rubeus,” Riddle says sharply.

The boy slams the door shut and turns around.

“What yer doin’ down here, Tom?” 

Riddle takes a step closer to the boy.

“It’s all over,” he says. “I’m going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They’re talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don’t stop.” 

“What d’yeh —” 

“I don’t think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don’t make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and —” 

“It never killed no one!” the boy steps in front of the door, blocking it easily. Behind it, Harry hears a weird rustling and clicking.

“Come on, Rubeus,” Riddle says, taking yet another step closer. “The dead girl’s parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…”

“It wasn’t him!” the boy yells, his voice echoing down the passageway. “He wouldn’! He never!” 

“Stand aside,” Riddle takes his wand out. 

A spell lights up the corridor. The door behind the boy opens with such a force that it flies into the wall opposite of it. Harry screams. 

The telltale hairy body and eight legs; eight eyes gleaming in the darkness, razor-sharp pincers — 

Riddle raises his wand again. The spider barrels over him, sending him onto his back, and scurries down the passageway and out of sight.

Riddle quickly scrambles to his feet and raises his wand once more. The huge boy, however, leaps forward and seizes his wand, pulling it clean out of his hands.

The memory suddenly whirls for only a second and then Harry finds himself staring at nothing again. 

Before he even gets the chance to regain his breath, the door of his dorm opens.

“There you are,” Ron breathes, sounding relieved. 

Harry sits up, shaking. He clenches his fists to try and hide it.

“What’s up?” Ron now sounds concerned. He walks closer.

“It was Hagrid, Ron,” Harry chokes. “Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ron and percy being Those siblings who are alike in a lot of ways but pretend to hate each other is so fucking funny because it's literally me and my brother   
> even draco knows they're in love ahahdgahas  
> poor ginny :'(  
> harry teaching everybody a cleaning spell is so innocent and cute i love them so much  
> the quidditch team sitting down and writing a poem for harry and getting actually heated about some of the lines is so fucking hilarious don't @ me  
> harry, seeing tom for the first time: so this is love   
> harry, aware that tom is manipulating him: yes it was hagrid absolutely  
> i love my dumb children
> 
> so i have a question everyone !!!  
> do you want me to rewrite the epilogue? because i have names picked out for the three kids already and i love them dearly but i won't rewrite it if you all don't want me to. and just to clarify, it's only their middle names that will be named after a family member. their first names are just names i like a lot and thought sounded good, they have no significance to any family members. this is mainly because i don't think harry and ginny would actually name their kids james, albus, and lily because that's like, a huge burden and they would realize this, so having the middle name's be family members takes a little bit of the burden off. but these kids would be adopted because it's not ginny and harry, it's ron and harry!!!  
> so, to reiterate, three adopted kids who's middle names are the only one's that are also a family members. do you want an epilogue rewrite?


	14. Cornelius Fudge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i need to put any trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Harry figures he should be a little more surprised than he is, but he isn’t. After Fluffy and Norbert last year, learning that Hagrid may have opened the Chamber isn’t all that shocking. He probably felt bad for the monster down there and wanted to get it out of the castle so it could roam. Harry is sure he didn’t mean to do any harm. 

Ron and Hermione force him to recount the story over and over, again and again, until he’s quite sick of talking about it. 

“Riddle  _ might _ have got the wrong person,” Hermione says for maybe the fifth time. “Maybe it was some other monster that was attacking people…”

“How many monsters d’you think this place can hold?” Ron says. 

“We always knew Hagrid had been expelled,” Harry rests his elbows on his knees and places his chin in his hands. “And the attacks must’ve stopped after Hagrid was kicked out. Otherwise, Riddle wouldn’t have got his award.” 

There’s a moment of thoughtful silence. Harry relishes in it, but it doesn’t last.

“Riddle  _ does _ sound like Percy — who asked him to squeal on Hagrid, anyway?” 

“But the monster had killed someone, Ron,” Hermione says. “And stop with the Percy thing, we talked about this.”

“Riddle was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they closed Hogwarts,” Harry gets back on topic. “I don’t blame him for wanting to stay here…”

They fall into another silence. Harry lifts his head up and slumps back in his chair. Hermione finally breaks the silence with a hesitant question.

“Do you think we should go and ask Hagrid about it all?” 

“That’d be a cheerful visit,” Ron says sarcastically. “ ‘Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?’ ”

They decide to keep quiet about it and only bring it up if there’s another attack, which doesn’t seem all that likely. It’s been four months since Sir Nicholas and Justin were attacked and everybody has regained hope. Peeves has finally gotten tired of his song about Harry, Harry’s good reputation is beginning to return, and in March, the mandrakes throw a party in greenhouse three. According to Professor Sprout, once the mandrakes start moving into each other’s pots, they’ll be fully mature and ready to be used to revive the petrified students, ghost and cat.

During Spring holiday, the second years and above are given something new to think about that isn’t the attacks. Going into third year, they’re now allowed to pick and choose optional classes they’d like to take along with the required ones. Hermione takes this very seriously, which Harry expected no less from her.

“It could affect our whole future,” she tells Harry and Ron.

“Wish I could drop Potions,” Harry mutters. “It’s not even fun. We don’t do magic.”

“We can’t, unfortunately,” Ron sighs. “We keep all our old subjects, or I’d’ve ditched DADA” 

“But that’s very important!” Hermione says. 

“Not the way Lockhart teaches it,” Ron says. “I’ve learned one thing from him and it’s that you can do anything if you’re conceited enough.”

“Or if you’re so attractive that everybody just ignores what comes out of your mouth,” Harry adds. 

“Oh, shut up,” Hermione grumbles. 

Hermione ends up signing up for every single class. Harry decides not to point out how she probably won’t get any time to herself next year.

Harry finds himself listening to Percy about the classes.

“Depends where you want to go, Harry,” he tells him. “It’s never too early to think about the future, so I’d recommend Divination. People say Muggle Studies is a soft option, but I personally think wizards should have a thorough understanding of the non-magical community, particularly if they’re thinking of working in close contact with them — look at my father, he has to deal with Muggle business all the time. My brother Charlie was always more of an outdoor type, so he went for Care of Magical Creatures. Play to your strengths, Harry.” 

Well, Harry knows that his strengths are Quidditch and spell magic. 

He just signs up for everything Ron did and calls it a day. 

The next Quidditch match is going to be against Hufflepuff and, after that, Ravenclaw. Harry thinks their chances at getting the Quidditch Cup have never been better. 

His high spirits don’t last, though.

The evening before Saturday’s match, he heads up to his dorm to drop off his broom and meets a frantic Neville at the top.

“Harry — I don’t know who did it — I just found —”

“Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on, Neville,” Harry says calmly.

Neville takes in a deep, shuddering breath and says, “Someone’s broke into your things.”

Harry frowns and follows Neville inside the dorm.

“I-I don’t if anything’s missing, I don’t know what all you own, but,” Neville cuts himself off and doesn’t say anything more.

Harry walks over to his bed cautiously and kicks his foot around. He sighs. 

“Holy shit,” Dean’s voice says. “What happened?”

“No idea,” Harry mumbles.

“Someone’s been looking for something,” Ron says. “All your robe pockets are turned inside out. Is there anything missing?”

“I don’t understand  _ what,”  _ Harry shakes his head. “Help me pick everything up, yeah?”

It’s when he’s closing his trunk ten minutes later that he finally realizes what he didn’t pick up. 

“Riddle’s diary,” he hisses in Ron’s ear. 

“What?”

“We didn’t pick it up. All the books I picked up changed to braille.”

“Shit.”

Hermione holds the same sentiments as Ron but she says them in a much more eloquent way that doesn’t include swear words.

The next morning, Harry is a ball of nervousness. A little bit because of the Quidditch match but mainly because of the fact that it could’ve only been a Gryffindor who stole Riddle’s diary. He doesn’t understand why they would want to.

After dealing with Oliver’s nagging to eat more all throughout breakfast, they all leave the Great Hall. Harry, Hermione, and Ron are heading up to get Harry’s Quidditch things when Harry hears it.

_ “Kill this time… let me rip… tear…” _

He lets out a shout and Hermione and Ron jump away from him in alarm.

“The voice!” Harry exclaims, moving his head around wildly as if he might be able to see the source of it. “I just heard it again — didn’t you?”

“No —”

“Harry!” Hermione interrupts Ron. “I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!” 

She sprints off.

_ “What _ does she understand?” Harry says miserably.

“Loads more than I do,” Ron mumbles.

“But why’s she got to go to the library?” 

“Because that’s what Hermione does,” Ron says. “When in doubt, go to the library.” 

Harry stands stock still, very confused about both Hermione and the voice. People begin to flood out of the Great Hall.

“You’d better get moving,” Ron grabs Harry’s wrist and tugs him up the stairs. “It’s nearly eleven — the match —”

Once they both get to the pitch, Ron detaches himself from Harry and heads up to sit with the Gryffindors while Harry heads to the locker room and joins the rest of the team.

Angelina gives him an encouraging side hug before they head out onto the field and he appreciates it.

He shakes his head to rid himself of his worries and is just mounting his broom when Professor McGonagall’s voice stops him in his tracks.

“This match has been canceled.”

She’s met with boos and outraged yells.

“But, Professor!” Oliver’s voice shouts, rightfully angry. “We’ve got to play — the Cup —  _ Gryffindor  _ —” 

Professor McGonagall ignores all of this and continues speaking.

“All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!” 

Her voice lowers but she says her next words loud enough for Harry to hear.

“Potter, I think you’d better come with me.”

Harry is just beginning to wonder how she could possibly suspect him this time when Ron joins them, asking what’s going on in a breathless voice. Professor McGonagall doesn’t tell him, but she does say, “Yes, perhaps you’d better come, too, Weasley…”

The three of them walk in silence for a while, until Professor McGonagall speaks up once more.

“This will be a bit of a shock,” her voice is surprisingly gentle and comforting. “There has been another attack… another _ double _ attack.” 

Harry’s stomach drops. He hasn’t got a clue who the second student could be but he thinks he might know who the other is… 

They enter the hospital wing and Ron confirms Harry’s suspicion.

_ “Hermione.” _

“They were found near the library,” Professor McGonagall says quietly. “I don’t suppose either of you can explain the mirror? It was on the floor next to them…”

Harry shakes his head numbly.

“I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower,” Professor McGonagall places a hand on Harry’s shoulder, most likely placing her other hand on Ron’s. “I need to address the students in any case.” 

“All students will return to their House common rooms by six o’clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities.” 

Harry barely registers what Professor McGonagall is saying. He doesn’t know what to feel.

Professor McGonagall sighs shakily. “I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward.” 

She leaves the common room and everybody begins talking immediately.

Lee Jordan begins to go on a rant about Slytherin’s being the cause of everything and Harry can’t find it in himself to even attempt to defend the house he was almost Sorted into. Percy, though, seems especially fired up after the events on the night.

“If you would use your brain for one second, Lee, you would realize that Slytherin’s are mainly purebloods and this thing is only attacking muggleborns,” he snaps. Lee falls silent. “Besides, Slytherins are smart enough to not wander around alone in the midst of this all. Not that Hermione and Penelope weren’t smart,” he adds, talking to Ron and Harry now, “it’s just that they shouldn’t have been inside during a Quidditch match with all this going on.”

“Stop before you say something even more stupid,” Oliver’s voice chimes in, sounding tired. Percy huffs but doesn’t say anything else.

Harry has been half-listening to Percy, though. He keeps thinking Hermione is about to make  _ her  _ opinion heard but her usual presence on his right side being empty is very obvious. And if the attacker isn’t caught soon, Hogwarts will be shut down and Harry will go back to the Dursleys until he’s of age. Riddle had turned Hagrid in after learning that he’d be forced to go back to the Muggle orphanage and Harry completely understands that now.

“What’re we going to do?” Ron says into Harry’s ear. “D’you think they suspect Hagrid?” 

“We’ve got to go and talk to him,” Harry says. “I can’t believe it’s him this time, but if he set the monster loose last time he’ll know how to get inside the Chamber of Secrets, and that’s a start.” 

“But McGonagall said we’ve got to stay in our tower unless we’re in class —” 

“I think,” Harry says, cracking a smile, “it’s time to get my dad’s old cloak out again.”

So, that night, after Neville, Dean, and Seamus finally fall asleep (as well as Sandwich, Dean’s cat, because he’s as bad of a snitch as Mrs. Norris), Harry and Ron get out of bed. Harry pulls out his Invisibility Cloak and throws it over them before they head out of their dorm, Ron leading the way with a hand wrapped around Harry’s wrist. 

It’s a tense walk down to the entrance hall, considering the corridors are full of teachers and prefects and ghosts, but they make it. 

They only take off the cloak once they’re in front of Hagrid's door. Ron knocks and they hear the familiar sound of Fang barking before it opens a second later.

“Oh,” Hagrid says. “What’re you two doin’ here?” 

“What’s that for?” Ron asks and Harry decides he doesn’t want to know.

“Nothin’ — nothin’ — “ Hagrid mutters. “I’ve bin expectin’ — doesn’ matter — Sit down — I’ll make tea —” 

He doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing. Harry frowns. 

“Are you okay, Hagrid?” Harry asks. “Did you hear about Hermione?” 

“Oh, I heard, all righ’,” Hagrid says.

A minute later, there’s a loud knock on the door. Hagrid drops something. Ron grabs Harry’s hand and tugs him away from the table, throwing the Invisibility Cloak over them. Harry is panicking too much to react to the fact that he and Ron are holding hands but he’s sure he’ll be embarrassed later. Hagrid opens the door.

“Good evening, Hagrid.” 

That’s Dumbledore’s voice and he sounds more serious than Harry has ever heard him.

“That’s Dad’s boss!” Ron suddenly whispers. “Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic!”

Harry digs his nails into the side of Ron’s hand to make him shut up.

“Bad business, Hagrid,” a new voice who must be the Minister says. “Very bad business. Had to come. Four attacks on muggleborns. Things’ve gone far enough. Ministry’s got to act.” 

“I never,” Hagrid says. “You know I never, Professor Dumbledore, sir —” 

“I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence,” Dumbledore says. 

“Look, Albus,” Fudge says, sounding uncomfortable. “Hagrid’s record’s against him. Ministry’s got to do something — the school governors have been in touch —” 

“Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help in the slightest,” Dumbledore says. 

“Look at it from my point of view,” Fudge says. “I’m under a lot of pressure. Got to be seen to be doing something. If it turns out it wasn’t Hagrid, he’ll be back and no more said. But I’ve got to take him. Got to. Wouldn’t be doing my duty —” 

“Take me?” Hagrid says. “Take me where?” 

“For a short stretch only,” Fudge says, stuttering slightly. “Not a punishment, Hagrid, more a precaution. If someone else is caught, you’ll be let out with a full apology —” 

“Not Azkaban?”

Before Fudge can answer, there’s another knock on the door. The door is opened and somebody strides in. Fang begins to growl. Harry inches closer to Ron at the sound. A growling dog always foreshadowed Harry getting bitten by Ripper, Aunt Marge’s favorite pitbull. 

“Already here, Fudge,” a familiar voice says. “Good, good…” 

“What’re you doin’ here?” Hagrid growls. “Get outta my house!” 

“My dear man, please believe me, I have no pleasure at all in being inside your — er — d’you call this a house?” Harry suddenly recognizes the voice. Lucius Malfoy. “I simply called at the school and was told that the headmaster was here.” 

“And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?” Dumbledore says, overly polite. 

“Dreadful thing, Dumbledore,” Mr. Malfoy says lazily, “but the governors feel it’s time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension — you’ll find all twelve signatures on it. I’m afraid we feel you’re losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? Two more this afternoon, wasn’t it? At this rate, there’ll be no muggleborns left at Hogwarts, and we all know what an awful loss that would be to the school.” 

“Oh, now, see here, Lucius,” Fudge says, sounding quite alarmed, “Dumbledore suspended — no, no — last thing we want just now —”

“The appointment — or suspension — of the headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge,” Mr. Malfoy says smoothly. “And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks —” 

“See here, Malfoy, if Dumbledore can’t stop them,” Fudge says, “I mean to say, who can?” 

“That remains to be seen,” Mr. Malfoy says. “But as all twelve of us have voted —” 

“An’ how many did yeh have ter threaten an’ blackmail before they agreed, Malfoy, eh?” Hagrid roars.

“Dear, dear, you know, that temper of yours will lead you into trouble one of these days, Hagrid,” Mr. Malfoy says. “I would advise you not to shout at the Azkaban guards like that. They won’t like it at all.” 

“Yeh can’ take Dumbledore!” Hagrid yells. “Take him away, an’ the muggleborns won’ stand a chance! There’ll be killin’ next!” 

“Calm yourself, Hagrid,” Dumbledore says sharply. “If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside —” 

“But —” Fudge stutters.

“No!” Hagrid growls.

“However,” Dumbledore says slowly and clearly, “you will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.” 

“Admirable sentiments,” Mr. Malfoy says, sarcasm showing clearly. “We shall all miss your — er — highly individual way of running things, Albus, and only hope that your successor will manage to prevent any — ah — killins.” 

The cabin door opens. There’s a moment of silence before Hagrid says, “If anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they’d have ter do would be ter follow the spiders. That’d lead ’em right! That’s all I’m sayin’. All right, I’m comin’,” Hagrid says. He begins to walk but stops again, “An’ someone’ll need ter feed Fang while I’m away.” 

The door shuts and Ron pulls the Invisibility Cloak off of them. 

“Dumbledore and Hagrid,” Ron says hoarsely. “I know we aren’t blindly following Dumbledore anymore but Harry — with him gone, there’ll be an attack everyday.”

“I know,” Harry says, suddenly feeling very determined. “That’s why we’re going to find out who’s  _ really  _ doing this. For Hagrid and Hermione. And sure, Dumbledore too.”

Ron laughs weakly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry and ron making fun of hermione for liking lockhart gives me life  
> 'take a deep breath and tell me what's going on' i love harry so much. he has no patience whatsoever but as soon as any one of his friends is freaking out, he gains +100 patience  
> oliver telling percy to stop talking before he makes harry and ron mad is SO funny he's just like 'sigh. i have no impulse control but i'll be damned if i let my boyfriend have none either'  
> sandwich :') i love him. he's such a small character but he's so amazing. him and trevor are bffs you can't convince me otherwise. they bond over their collective hate for scabbers. hedwig brings sandwich rats sometimes. spectacular.  
> they held hands !!!!! harry is so smitten for this boy and ron is so smitten for harry but both of them are disasters i cAn't  
> 'i know we aren't blindly following dumbledore anymore but-' we stan the boys (and hermione) realizing they shouldn't put all their faith in dumbles :')  
> anyway  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	15. Aragog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter isn't edited so feel free to point out any mistakes you see!
> 
> this is the spider chapter and i talk about harry and ron throwing up a few times :)
> 
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

The mood in the castle is quick to drop again after everyone finds out Hagrid and Dumbledore are gone. Harry and Ron are slightly optimistic up until Madam Pomfrey tells them that they aren’t allowed to visit Hermione anymore. Ron has to physically drag Harry away from the hospital wing, otherwise he would’ve stood there all day in a silent protest against being unable to visit his petrified best friend. 

Not for the first time since that night in Hagrid’s hut, Harry wishes desperately that he hadn’t let Hermione run off to the library right after he heard the voice again. He loves hanging out with Ron all day, don’t get him wrong, but Hermione is  _ also  _ his best friend and he misses her. He’d be happy to have her at his side, nagging him about color coding his notes and going over them every night before bed because exams are drawing closer and closer, if only because it meant she’d be at his side again.

Dumbledore's last words stick in Harry’s head but they don’t repeat themselves as much as Hagrid’s do.  _ Follow the spiders.  _ Ron is a lot less keen to continue thinking about what that implies but Harry has forced him to start keeping a lookout for any spiders running away like they were that day outside of Myrtle’s bathroom. Ron is only doing it because Harry said  _ pleeeease  _ one too many times and he caved. Ron’s hunting is hampered, though, by the fact that they have to travel with the rest of the first year Gryffindors in the corridors, following a professor all the way to their next class. They can’t leave the common room after six o’clock and anytime they want to go anywhere, a professor has to come with them. Most of the other students are quite happy about this but Harry finds it extremely annoying.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, seems to be in a great mood on the daily. Harry can guess why but it’s two weeks after Dumbledore and Hagrid have left that he hears the exact reason as to why in Potions. He and Ron are, unfortunately, sitting right behind him and they overhear him gloating to Crabbe and Goyle about the situation.

“I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore,” he says, not even trying to keep his voice down. “I told you he thinks Dumbledore’s the worst headmaster the school’s ever had. Maybe we’ll get a decent headmaster now. Someone who won’t  _ want _ the Chamber of Secrets closed. McGonagall won’t last long, she’s only filling in…”

Somebody passes by Harry, most likely Snape.

“Sir,” Malfoy says loudly. “Sir, why don’t you apply for the headmaster’s job?” 

“Now, now, Malfoy,” Snape says. “Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I daresay he’ll be back with us soon enough.” 

“Yeah, right,” Malfoy says. “I expect you’d have Father’s vote, sir, if you wanted to apply for the job —  _ I’ll _ tell Father you’re the best teacher here, sir —” 

Snape marches off and fortunately doesn’t hear Seamus’ fake gag. 

“I’m quite surprised the Mudbloods haven’t all packed their bags by now,” Malfoy continues. “Bet you five Galleons the next one dies. Pity it wasn’t Granger —” 

The bell rings right then, which is good because Ron and Harry both leap up and attempt to grab Malfoy but are held back by Seamus and Dean. 

“Let me at him,” Ron growls. “I don’t care, I don’t need my wand, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands —” 

“Hurry up, I’ve got to take you all to Herbology,” Snape barks.

The four boys take up the rear, with a worried Neville walking with them. Seamus and Dean only let go of Harry and Ron once they’re outside the castle and nearing the greenhouses.

Harry takes a deep breath and straightens his robes. “I’m going to work with Ron today, Neville, but I will work with you in our next Herbology class.”

“Oh, that’s fine, Nev can just work with Hannah, can’t he?” Seamus says.

“Shut up, Seamus,” Neville hisses.

“Right, I’m sure she’d be super glad to work with Professor Sprout’s little prodigy,” Dean teases. 

“That’s  _ not  _ funny!” Neville exclaims while Seamus snickers.

The happy mood quickly vanishes once they reach the greenhouses. With Hermione and Justin gone, the class is very subdued. 

Professor Sprout sets them to work pruning the Abyssinian Shrivelfigs, something Harry isn’t bad at because the withered stalks feel different than the still alive ones. He’s just going to throw an armfull into the compost pile when Ron suddenly grabs his wrist tightly. Harry is just about to ask him what his problem is when a voice starts talking.

“I just want to say, Harry, that I’m sorry I ever suspected you. I know you’d never attack Hermione Granger, and I apologize for all the stuff I said. We’re all in the same boat now, and, well —” 

There’s a beat of silence.

“Right,” Harry says awkwardly. He passes the withered stalks to Ron and then holds his hand out. Ernie takes it. 

Ernie and the same Hannah that Dean and Seamus had been teasing Neville about come join Harry and Ron at their Shrivelfig and begin to help them. 

“That Draco Malfoy character,” Ernie says, “he seems very pleased about all this, doesn’t he? D’you know, I think _ he _ might be Slytherin’s heir.” 

“That’s clever of you,” Ron says stiffly. 

“Do you think it’s Malfoy, Harry?” Ernie asks. 

“No,” Harry says firmly, sending a glare in Ron’s direction. Ron takes a step away from him and Harry jumps probably a foot in the air when Ron gasps and presses himself against Harry’s side quickly.  _ “What  _ are you —”

_ “Spiders,”  _ Ron hisses, sounding very irked. 

Harry perks up, “Really? Where are they headed?”

Ron takes a moment and then he makes a strangled noise in the back on his throat. “The forest…”

“Wicked.”

_ “Harry.” _

At the end of class, Professor Sprout leads them back up to the castle for the DADA lesson. Harry and Ron lag behind so they can talk.

“We’ll have to use the Invisibility Cloak,” Harry whispers. “And we can bring Fang. I’m sure he’d like to go on a walk, and he usually goes into the forest with Hagrid so he might be some help, y’know?”

“Right,” Ron says. “And, uh, what happens when we don’t find any spiders to follow?”

“We try again later,” Harry says. “Ron, I would do this by myself if I could, but I can’t. I know you don’t like spiders” — Ron scoffs — “but think about Hermione! If she wakes up and finds out we’ve done  _ nothing  _ when we could’ve done  _ something,  _ she’ll be pissed with us! Dealing with a pissed Hermione when exams are  _ this  _ close is not high on the list of things I want to do right now.”

“I’d take a pissed Hermione over following  _ spiders  _ into the  _ Forbidden  _ Forest when just last year around the same time, you came across  _ You-Know-Who  _ in the same forest!” Ron hisses.

“It doesn’t have the same scare factor when you don’t say his name, Ronald,” Harry says. Ron groans. “Look, if you don’t want to go, fine by me, but  _ I’m  _ going and I’m sure you’d be pleased to let your best friend wander into the Forbidden Forest looking for spiders when he can’t even see.”

Ron huffs,  _ “Fine,  _ but I’m writing  _ Harry did it  _ on a piece of paper and putting it in my pocket so when we’re found dead, you’ll go down as a murderer instead of a hero.”

“The spiders will eat us before our bodies are found so that’ll never happen.”

_ “Harry!” _

They take their usual seats in the back of Lockhart’s classroom, decidedly not speaking to each other. Harry knows when Lockhart enters because all the chatter ceases at once, nobody wanting to fuel Lockhart into a long discussion about how he’ll save the day and bring Dumbledore back like they did the last few classes.

“Come now,” he crises. “Why all these long faces?” 

Nobody answers.

“Don’t you people realize,” Lockhart says, sounding as though he’s speaking to a class of two-year-olds, “the danger has passed! The culprit has been taken away —” 

“Says who?” Dean says loudly.

“My dear young man, the Minister of Magic wouldn’t have taken Hagrid if he hadn’t been one hundred percent sure that he was guilty,” Lockhart says. 

“Oh, yes he would,” Ron says even louder than Dean. 

“I flatter myself I know a  _ touch _ more about Hagrid’s arrest than you do, Mr. Weasley,” Lockhart says confidently.

Harry kicks Ron’s shin just as he goes to continue arguing. “We weren’t there, remember?”

Ron huffs but stops.

By the end of class, though, Harry is so irritated with Lockhart that he yearns to tell him what really happened that night Hagrid got arrested. Instead, he writes on a piece of parchment  _ Let’s do it tonight  _ and passes it to Ron. Ron sighs but mumbles an angry, “Fine,” under his breath. Harry cracks a smile.

That night, it takes waiting until well past midnight for the common room to clear out. Fred and George had challenged Ron and Harry to a game of Exploding Snap, saying that, “Whatever you two are fighting about can easily disappear once you two beat us a few times,” and Ginny had sat in Hermione’s usual chair to watch them play.  _ Whatever you two are fighting about  _ definitely doesn’t go away, and by the time they’re finally slipping out of the portrait hole forty-five minutes past midnight, Harry and Ron are trying very desperately not to stop in the middle of a corridor and start shouting at one another to blow off some steam. Even though Ron agreed to take the lead, all for the sake of Hermione and Hagrid, his pride isn’t allowing him to admit that he’s also doing it for Harry, and Harry is refusing to admit that it is a little dick-ish of him to expect Ron to be completely okay with facing his worst fear all in the name of getting answers that aren’t even guaranteed to be found.

When they finally reach Hagrid’s house and push the door open, Fang goes mad with joy. Ron gives him a piece of treacle toffee and that glues his jaw shut. Harry leaves the cloak on Hagrid’s table, there being no need for it in the forest.

“C’mon, Fang, let’s go for a walk,” Harry says, patting his leg. Fang happily follows them out of the house.

They start on their way inside the forest. Harry divides his magic up between his senses so he can feel if something is heading their way or hear if something is heading their way. Maybe both. 

“Um, Harry,” Ron says apprehensively, most likely wishing he didn’t have to resort to asking Harry for anything. 

“Yes?”

“I can’t see anything,” Ron says slowly, “and I’m afraid my wand might explode if I attempt a  _ Lumos.” _

Harry blinks. “Oh. Right. I suppose it’s important that you see, my bad,” Harry mumbles, pulling out his wand.  _ “Lumos.” _

He hands his wand to Ron. 

“Over there,” Ron sighs. “C’mon then. Time to follow the  _ fucking  _ spiders.”

Harry resists the urge to correct his language just to annoy him, but instead keeps his mouth shut and follows Ron.

They walk for about twenty minutes, not speaking, Harry listening for any other noises and Ron focusing on the spiders. Ron suddenly stops and Harry bumps into his backside.

“They’re leaving the path,” Ron mutters.

“We’ve come this far,” Harry says.

Ron sighs, “Right. Let’s go, then.”

Ron reaches over as they leave the path and instead of grabbing Harry’s wrist like he expected, Ron grabs his hand and grips it tightly. Harry’s face immediately begins to burn but he doesn’t say anything, just gives Ron’s hand a squeeze.

They walk like that for at least half an hour until, all of the sudden, Fang lets out a loud, echoing bark, scaring both of them and making Ron grip Harry’s hand so hard Harry is sure he’s going to crush it.

“What is it?” Harry asks.

“There’s something moving over there,” Ron says, his voice trembling.

Harry listens. From the sound of snapping branches, Harry assumes this thing is big and is clearing itself a path as it walks. 

“Oh no,” Ron presses himself against Harry’s side. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh —”   


“Shut  _ up,”  _ Harry hisses. “It’ll hear you!”   
  
“Hear me?” Ron says, his voice high. “It’s already heard Fang!”

There’s a strange rumbling noise that makes Harry jump and then silence. 

“What’s happening?” Harry says.

“I don’t know.”

They wait for a minute in tense silence.

“D’you think it’s gone?” Harry asks.

“I hope so —”

Ron cuts himself off with a scream and Harry jumps again.

“What? What’s happening?” Harry says frantically.

“Harry!” Ron says, suddenly sounding cheerful. “Harry, it’s our car!”

_ “What?” _

“Come on!”

Ron tugs him over to it and let’s out a startled laugh when they stumble into a clearing.

“It’s been here all this time,” Ron lets go of Harry hand to walk over to it. “The forest has turned it wild…”

Harry stands silently, incredulously. 

“What’s that look?” Ron says.

“Mr. Weasley’s car,” Harry says slowly, “has gone  _ wild?  _ Like a dog?”

But Ron doesn’t answer. 

“Ron?”

There’s a sudden clicking noise behind Harry and then he’s seized by his waist by something long and hairy. It lifts him off the ground and he screams, struggling, terrified out of his mind. There’s more clicking and then Ron screams. Fang whimpers and howls loudly.

Harry has no idea how long he spends in the creature's clutches. He only zones back into reality when he’s dropped onto the ground, landing on all fours and staying there, not having the strength to stand up and try to defend himself. There’s two thuds next to him that Harry assumes are Ron and Fang, though both of them are completely silent.

“Aragog!” the thing that was carrying Harry says.  _ Says! It’s talking!  _ “Aragog!”

Harry attempts to move, to maybe make a run for it, but he’s glued in place by hopefully just fear and not something else, because his hands feel awfully sticky and he’s not sure he wants to know what he’s touching at the moment.

“What is it?” Harry assumes this is Aragog. 

“Men.”

“Is it Hagrid?” Aragog asks. Harry distantly wonders why Aragog can’t just see for himself that they are not, in fact, Hagrid.

“Strangers,” a different creature responds.

“Kill them,” Aragog says simply. “I was sleeping…”

“We’re friends of Hagrid’s,” Harry says loudly, finding his voice again.

There’s a lot of clicking that makes Harry cower back slightly.

“Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before,” Aragog says slowly. 

“Hagrid’s in trouble,” Harry says, his heart pounding. “That’s why we’ve come.” 

“In trouble?” Aragog says. Harry thinks he might hear concern behind the clicking. “But why has he sent you?” 

Harry wishes it hadn’t been him who Hagrid sent. 

“They think, up at the school, that Hagrid’s been setting a — a — something on students. They’ve taken him to Azkaban.” 

There’s more clicking, this time very furious clicking. Harry swallows bile, attempting with all his might to keep his dinner inside of his stomach. He’s not sure these creatures would take very kindly to him puking in their home.

“But that was years ago,” Aragog says. “Years and years ago. I remember it well. That’s why they made him leave the school. They believed that  _ I _ was the monster that dwells in what they call the Chamber of Secrets. They thought that Hagrid had opened the Chamber and set me free.” 

“And you… you didn’t come from the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry says.

“I!” Aragog clicks angrily. Harry moves backward slightly. “I was not born in the castle. I come from a distant land. A traveler gave me to Hagrid when I was an egg. Hagrid was only a boy, but he cared for me, hidden in a cupboard in the castle, feeding me on scraps from the table. Hagrid is my good friend, and a good man. When I was discovered, and blamed for the death of a girl, he protected me. I have lived here in the forest ever since, where Hagrid still visits me. He even found me a wife, Mosag, and you see how our family has grown, all through Hagrid’s goodness…”

Harry is very glad he can’t see how their family has grown. “So you never — never attacked anyone?” 

“Never,” Aragog says. “It would have been my instinct, but out of respect for Hagrid, I never harmed a human. The body of the girl who was killed was discovered in a bathroom. I never saw any part of the castle but the cupboard in which I grew up. Our kind like the dark and the quiet…” 

“But then… Do you know what  _ did _ kill that girl?” Harry asks. “Because whatever it is, it’s back and attacking people again —” 

His words are drowned out by furious clicking and the rustling of hairy limbs. 

“The thing that lives in the castle,” Aragog says, “is an ancient creature we spiders fear above all others. Well do I remember how I pleaded with Hagrid to let me go, when I sensed the beast moving about the school.” 

“What is it?” Harry asks, too urgent to care about the fact that these must be giant spiders he’s speaking to and not some random creature. The spiders’ furious clicking picks up.

“We do not speak of it!” Aragog says fiercely. “We do not name it! I never even told Hagrid the name of that dread creature, though he asked me, many times.” 

“We’ll just go, then,” Harry calls desperately, not wanting to push the subject. He both hears and feels leaves rustling behind him.

“Go?” Aragog says slowly. “I think not…” 

“But — but —” 

“My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid, on my command. But I cannot deny them fresh meat, when it wanders so willingly into our midst. Goodbye, friend of Hagrid.” 

Harry is fully ready to die by spider at that point. Really. He’s accepted it. He’s not even sure he wants to go out fighting. But a loud, long note sounds and Harry knows, without even being able to see it, that Mr. Weasley’s car has come to save the day.

The car screeches to a halt right in front of him and Harry hears it’s doors open.

“Get Fang!” Harry yells at Ron before diving into the front seat and slams the door shut. Ron does as he’s told and also gets into the car. The doors slam shut and without either of them even pressing the accelerator, the car speeds off, hitting spiders as it goes. Neither him nor Ron speak for the entire ride out of the forest. When it finally comes to a stop, Harry gets out quickly and finally releases the contents of his stomach by the nearest tree. He wipes his mouth when he’s done and lets Fang out of the car. He lets Ron take his time.

He heads inside Hagrid’s house to get the cloak and when he walks back outside, Ron is also throwing his dinner up, but much closer to the house than Harry did. 

“Follow the spiders,” Ron says weakly. “I’ll never forgive Hagrid. We’re lucky to be alive.”

“I bet he thought Aragog wouldn’t hurt friends of his,” Harry says, but he’s not sure that makes the situation better. 

“That’s exactly Hagrid’s problem!” Ron exclaims. He hits his fist against Hagrid’s house. “He always thinks monsters aren’t as bad as they’re made out, and look where it’s got him! A cell in Azkaban! What was the point of sending us in there? What have we found out, I’d like to know?” 

“That Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets,” Harry shrugs. He walks over and throws the cloak over them both, bravely grabbing Ron’s hand and tugging him along. “He was innocent.” 

Ron scoffs. To him, hatching a giant spider in a cupboard isn’t ‘innocent.’

The walk back to their dorm is made in silence and when they finally get inside of it, Ron, albeit  _ quite  _ reluctantly, lets go of Harry’s hand and falls onto his bed without getting undressed. Harry, though, doesn’t feel tired at all. He sits on the edge of his own bed and thinks hard about all that Aragog said.

It’s only when he finally lays down and it about to fall asleep that it hits him. He bolts up and hisses, “Ron! Ron, wake up!”

Ron does, yelping like Fang as he does.

“Ron — that girl who died. Aragog said she was found in a bathroom,” Harry says. “What if she never left the bathroom? What if she’s still there?” 

There’s a long moment of silence until Ron wakes up enough and understands. “You  _ don’t _ think — not  _ Moaning Myrtle?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they held hands but this time deliberately   
> ron and harry fighting over following the spiders is so funny because they're both being dicks to each other even though they both know they're going to do it anyway  
> aragog, blind: is it hagrid?  
> harry, also blind and doesn't know that aragog is blind: ron am i really that fat?  
> HARRY HOLDING RON'S HAND AND RON NOT WANTING TO LET GO!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> also yes i'm still going with neville and hannah because that's literally such a cute relationship? i love them  
> anyway  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	16. The Chamber of Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway here's my headcanon: sexuality doesn't matter in the wizarding world, it's more about blood and who you marry and that stuff. like draco could marry a man and his parents wouldn't bat an eye but if that man was a muggleborn then there would be issues. idk. it makes writing in this era easier because people back in the 90s and 70s were SO homophobic but if homophobia just isn't a thing in the wizarding world (at least, in purebloods and some halfbloods) then it's easier. which is WHY molly didn't bat an eye at the beginning of the story when george said 'oh you're so smitten for lee fred' and it's also why ginny doesn't give a FUCK when she walks in on oliver and percy kissing. if this headcanon is gross and offensive, i will no longer be using it, but as a bisexual woman myself, it is not offensive to me so until somebody comes along and is like 'that's actually not okay at all' i will be using this headcanon forever and ever. thank you for coming to my ted talk :)
> 
> i hint at harry's past abuse twice 
> 
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Ron and Harry are quite bitter the next morning, their previous argument about the spiders and the forest completely forgotten in light of recent events. All those times they were in her bathroom…

Running off to go chase spiders was one feat, but getting away from the teachers long enough to go visit Myrtle is a completely different one. It doesn’t help that Ron gets distracted by Professor McGonagall telling them they’ll still be having exams.

“Ron, I’ve been talking about them for weeks,” Harry says tiredly.

“But I didn’t  _ actually  _ think we’d be doing them,” Ron says.

Harry sighs.

“And can you  _ imagine  _ me taking exams with  _ this?” _

“Ronald, I cannot see what you are holding up,” Harry deadpans.

“My wand!” 

Harry rolls his eyes. Ron hits his shoulder and he shrugs.

Three days before the start of their exams, Professor McGonagall tells them good news.

“Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit.” 

There’s an explosion of cheering that has Harry wincing, even though he’s just as excited as them to have his best friend back. 

“It won’t matter that we never asked Myrtle, then!” Ron says. “Hermione’ll probably have all the answers when they wake her up! Mind you, she’ll go crazy when she finds out we’ve got exams in three days’ time. She hasn’t studied. It might be kinder to leave her where she is till they’re over.” 

Somebody sits down next to Ron in Hermione’s usual spot. They don’t say anything.

“What’s up?” Ron asks.

More silence. Harry takes a bite of his bacon.

“Spit it out,” Ron says, sounding impatient. 

“I’ve got to tell you something,” a voice Harry thinks he recognizes as Ginny says, though he hasn’t really heard her talk all that much. 

“What is it?” Harry asks kindly, setting his bacon down.

Silence, again.

“What?” Ron is getting increasingly impatient. Harry remembers Ron telling him that Ginny usually never shuts up when Harry isn’t around and he imagines Ron isn’t used to having to goad information out of his sister.

When Ginny doesn’t say anything, Harry leans forward and lowers his voice, “Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?” 

Ginny takes a deep breath but, just then, Percy starts talking.

“If you’ve finished eating, I’ll take that seat, Ginny. I’m starving, I’ve only just come off patrol duty.” 

That’s all it takes for Ginny to run off and for Percy to sit down.

“Percy!” Ron growls. “She was just about to tell us something important!” 

Percy chokes.

“What sort of thing?” he asks, coughing.

“I just asked her if she’d seen anything odd, and she started to say —” 

“Oh — that — that’s nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets,” Percy interrupts Harry. 

“How do you know?” Ron says. 

“Well, er, if you must know, Ginny, er, walked in on me the other day when I was — well, never mind — the point is, she spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to anybody. I must say, I did think she’d keep her word. It’s nothing, really, I’d just rather —” Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard somebody sound so uncomfortable.

“What were you doing, Percy?” Ron says, sounding quite amused. “Go on, tell us, we won’t laugh.” 

Percy doesn’t satisfy him with a response, instead says, “Pass me those rolls, Harry, I’m starving.”

Even though Harry knows the mystery will be solved by tomorrow, he isn’t going to pass up an opportunity to talk to Myrtle. That opportunity comes mid-morning as they are being led to History of Magic by Lockhart. 

The man is now completely convinced that walking them to and from classes is unnecessary and a waste of his time. Harry, being the Almost-Slytherin he is, uses this to his advantage.

“Mark my words,” he tells them as they walk. “The first words out of those poor Petrified people’s mouths will be ‘It was Hagrid.’ Frankly, I’m astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary.” 

“I agree, sir,” Harry says, making Ron drop his books in surprise. He quickly begins to pick them up as Lockhart responds.

“Thank you, Harry,” he says. “I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and standing guard all night…”

“That’s right,” Ron says, realizing what Harry is doing. “Why don’t you leave us here, sir, we’ve only got one more corridor to go —” 

“You know, Weasley, I think I will,” Lockhart says. “I really should go and prepare my next class —” 

And off he goes.

“Prepare his class,” Ron says. “Gone to curl his hair, more like.” 

They let the rest of the Gryffindors walk ahead of them before they hurry off toward Myrtle’s bathroom. Just as Harry begins to gloat about their little scheme, a voice stops them in their tracks.

“Potter! Weasley! What are you doing?” 

Professor McGonagall.

“We were — we were —” Ron stammers, trying to think of a cover story. “We were going to — to go and see —” 

“Hermione,” Harry cuts in. There’s a split second of silence before he continues, forcing his voice to start shaking. “We haven’t seen her for ages, Professor, and we thought we’d sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry —” 

Professor McGonagall is silent for a long moment and Harry is just beginning to think that his story didn’t work when she speaks, her voice  _ actually  _ shaking. 

“Of course,” she says. “Of course, I realize this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been… I quite understand. Yes, Potter, of course you may visit Miss Granger. I will inform Professor Binns where you’ve gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission.”

Ron and Harry walk away quickly and, distantly, they hear Professor McGonagall blow her nose. 

“That,” Ron breathes, suddenly linking his arm with Harry’s, “has got to be the best story you’ve ever come up with.”

Harry, his face burning, smiles.

Unfortunately, though, they are forced to head to the hospital wing, not wanting to risk Professor McGonagall finding out they didn’t go after getting her permission.

Madam Pomfrey lets them in very reluctantly, muttering about how there’s no point in talking to a petrified person.

They’re both silent for a long time as they sit by her side. Harry finally takes a deep breath and says, “Professor McGonagall said they were found with a mirror. Is she carrying anything else?”

“Why does that matter?” Ron mumbles, though Harry knows he’s checking.

“It probably doesn’t,” Harry shrugs. “Just wondering.”

Ron makes a noise in the back of his throat, “Hang on… she actually  _ is  _ holding something else! She’s got a piece of paper in her hand.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. He hadn’t expected anything to actually come of his question. “Try and get it out.”

It takes several long minutes of twisting and turning before Ron finally pulls the paper free. He smooths it out and then leans close, whispering as he reads the words. 

_ Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken’s egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.  _

Everything begins to click and as soon as Ron mumbles, “She wrote  _ pipes  _ under it all,” Harry understands perfectly.

“Ron,” he breathes. “It’s the answer. This is it. The monster in the Chamber’s a basilisk — a giant serpent! That’s why I’ve been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It’s because I understand Parseltongue…” 

He takes a moment to organize his thoughts so his explanation actually makes sense instead of being an incoherent jumble of words.

“The basilisk kills people by looking at them,” Harry says. “But no one’s died — because no one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified. Justin… Justin must’ve seen the basilisk through Sir Nicholas! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn’t die again… and Hermione and that Ravenclaw prefect were found with a mirror next to them. Hermione had just realized the monster was a basilisk. I bet you anything she warned the first person she met to look around corners with a mirror first! And that girl pulled out her mirror — and —”

Harry pauses to take a deep breath.

“And Mrs. Norris?” Ron whispers eagerly. 

Harry thinks back to that night outside Myrtle’s bathroom.

“Myrtle flooded the bathroom, right? After Peeves made her sad,” Harry says. “I bet you Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection…” 

There’s a moment of silence as they mull this over. Then, Ron gasps.

“The crowing of the rooster is fatal to it!” he says. “Hagrid’s roosters were killed, Ginny told me that! The Heir of Slytherin didn’t want one anywhere near the castle once the Chamber was opened! Spiders flee before it! It all fits!” 

“But how’s the basilisk been getting around the place?” Harry says, grabbing the parchment and running his fingers along the words. “A giant snake… Someone would’ve seen…” 

“Pipes,” Ron directs Harry’s finger to the word Hermione wrote below the paragraph. 

“Pipes,” Harry repeats. “Ron, it’s been using the plumbing. I’ve been hearing that voice inside the walls…”

Harry lets out an almost hysterical laugh. 

Ron grabs his arm suddenly, “The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets! What if it’s a bathroom? What if it’s in —” 

_ “— Myrtle’s bathroom,” _ Harry finishes.

Harry almost can’t believe it, how one paragraph made everything click into place.

“This means,” Harry says, “I can’t be the only Parselmouth in the school. The Heir of Slytherin’s one, too. That’s how he’s been controlling the basilisk.” 

“What’re we going to do?” Ron says. “Should we go straight to McGonagall?” 

“Let’s go to the staffroom,” Harry jumps up, shoving the parchment back into Ron’s hand. “She’ll be there in ten minutes. It’s nearly break.” 

They quickly leave the hospital wing and run downstairs to the deserted staffroom. They pace around, too excited to sit down, and wait for the bell to ring. But it never does. Instead, Professor McGonagall’s voice echoes down the corridors, magically amplified.

“All students are to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom. Immediately, please.” 

Hary freezes on the spot. “Not another attack? Not now?” 

“What’ll we do?” Ron groans. “Go back to the dormitory?” 

“No,” Harry says. “Is there somewhere we can hide? We can hear what it’s all about. Then we can tell them what we’ve found out.”

“Over here,” Ron grabs his wrist. He pulls him inside of a wardrobe and shuts the door. Harry directs some of his magic to his hearing so he doesn’t miss anything. He’s glad he has the attack to focus on, otherwise the small space might make him panic.

After a long five minutes of waiting, Harry finally hears Professor McGonagall begin to speak.

“It has happened,” she tells the rest of the professors. “A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself.” 

Harry tenses. Ron’s hand moves from his wrist to his hand and squeezes.

“How can you be sure?” Snape’s voice asks.

“The Heir of Slytherin,” Professor McGonagall says, “left another message. Right underneath the first one. ‘Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.’ ” 

“Who is it?” Madam Hooch’s voice says. “Which student?” 

There’s a beat of tense silence before Professor McGonagall says, her voice thick with unshed tears, “Ginny Weasley.”

Ron’s knees buckle. Harry catches him and holds him tightly, listening attentively. 

“We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow,” Professor McGonagall says stiffly. “This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said…” 

The staffroom door bangs open again.

“So sorry — dozed off — what have I missed?” Lockhart’s extremely unwelcome voice says. Harry scowls.

“Just the man,” Snape’s voice says. “The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last.” 

“That’s right, Gilderoy,” Professor Sprout pipes in. “Weren’t you saying just last night that you’ve known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?” 

“I — well, I —” Lockhart stammers.

“Yes, didn’t you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?” Professor Flitwick says.

“D-did I? I don’t recall —” 

“I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn’t had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested,” Sape says. “Didn’t you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?” 

“I — I really never — you may have misunderstood —” 

“We’ll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy,” Professor McGonagall says. “Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We’ll make sure everyone’s out of your way. You’ll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last.” 

There’s a beat of silence before Lockhart shakily says, “V-very well. I’ll — I’ll be in my office, getting — getting ready.” 

With that, he leaves.

“Right,” Professor McGonagall says, “that’s got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories.”

One by one, the teachers leave.

Harry has never in his life felt so guilty, even if they only figured out the mystery behind the Chamber that very day. 

He, Ron, Fred, and George all sit in the common room, unable to find any words to say to each other. Percy went upstairs to send a letter to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and then locked himself in his dorm. An equally guilty Oliver Wood has sat himself on the floor by Harry’s leg and also hasn’t said anything since they all sat down. If Harry wasn’t so worried about Ginny, he might ask Oliver why he’s so guilty if he knows he couldn’t have done anything, but that would be an unfair question because Harry is just as guilty even though he couldn’t have done anything.

Near sunset, Fred and George head up to their dorm, unable to sit there any longer in the silence. Oliver is quick to follow. 

“She knew something, Harry,” Ron says, speaking for the first time since they shut themselves in the wardrobe. “That’s why she was taken. It wasn’t some stupid thing about Percy at all. She’d found out something about the Chamber of Secrets. That must be why she was —” Ron sniffles. “I mean, she was a pureblood. There can’t be any other reason.” 

Harry keeps his head facing forward, not wanting to direct his blank stare at Ron when he’s sure all Ron needs right now is a comforting smile and words.

“Harry,” Ron says quietly, his voice trembling. “D’you think there’s any chance at all she’s not — you know —” 

Harry doesn’t know what to say. There’s no way Ginny could still be alive.

“D’you know what?” Ron says. “I think we should go and see Lockhart. Tell him what we know. He’s going to try and get into the Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it’s a basilisk in there.” 

Harry doesn’t see a problem in doing that. Besides, what else have they got to do, except sit here and wallow in guilt and sadness?

The other Gryffindors are just as miserable as them and feel so sorry for the Weasleys, so when Ron and Harry get up and leave through the portrait hole, nobody tries to stop them.

When they reach Lockhart’s office, they can hear scraping, thumps, and very hurried footsteps. Harry knocks on the door and all noises cease suddenly.

The door creaks open slowly.

“Oh — Mr. Potter — Mr. Weasley —” Lockhart says. “I’m rather busy at the moment — if you would be quick —” ‘

“Professor, we’ve got some information for you,” Harry says. “We think it’ll help you.” 

“Er — well — it’s not terribly — I mean — well — all right —” 

He lets them walk inside.

There’s a very tense beat of silence before Ron says through clenched teeth, “Have you forgotten my sister?”

Lockhart audibly gulps. “Well, that was most unfortunate — No one regrets more than I —” 

“You’re the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!” Ron growls. “You can’t go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!” 

“Well — I must say — when I took the job — nothing in the job description — didn’t expect —” 

“You’re running away?” Harry says, finally catching on. “After all that stuff you did in your books —” 

“Books can be misleading,” Lockhart says softly, as if Harry is a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

“You wrote them!” Harry shouts. 

“My dear boy,” Lockhart says. Harry flinches at the word ‘boy’, this being one of the only times it’s actually registered in his mind that somebody is calling him it. “Do use your common sense. My books wouldn’t have sold half as well if people didn’t think I’d done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He’d look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean, come on —” 

“So you’ve just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?” Harry says incredulously, remembering back to that day in the garden when Fred and George told him that Lockhart is and always has been a fraud. 

“Harry, Harry,” Lockhart says, “it’s not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn’t remember doing it. If there’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s my Memory Charms. No, it’s been a lot of work, Harry. It’s not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog.” 

The lids of his trunks bang shut.

“Let’s see,” he says. “I think that’s everything. Yes. Only one thing left. Awfully sorry, boys, but I’ll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can’t have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I’d never sell another book —” 

Harry grabs his wand and shouts,  _ “Expelliarmus!” _ just as Lockhart begins to say his Memory Charm. 

“Shouldn’t have let Professor Snape teach us that one,” Harry grits, keeping his wand pointed at Lockhart.

“What d’you want me to do?” Lockhart says weakly. “I don’t know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There’s nothing I can do.” 

“You’re in luck,” Harry says. “We think we know where it is. And what’s inside it. Let’s go.” 

With Ron keeping them on the right track, they march Lockhart all the way to Myrtle’s bathroom. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Myrtle says when they enter. “What do you want this time?” 

“To ask you how you died,” Harry says simply.

“Ooh, it was dreadful,” Myrtle says, sounding as if she had never been asked a more flattering question. “It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then — I died.” 

“How?” Harry asks. 

“No idea,” Myrtle whispers. “I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away… And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she’d ever laughed at my glasses.”

“Where exactly did you see the eyes?” Harry says.

“Somewhere there,” Myrtle says.

Harry is just about to ask her to specify when Ron grabs his wrist and tugs him over to where Myrtle must’ve been pointing. 

Harry, not wanting Ron to have to do the dirty work this time, reaches out. It’s a sink. He runs his hands along the basin and then the facet and brightens, “Ron, what’s this?”

“Um… it’s — oh! It’s a snake! This must be it!”

Harry tries to turn the water on.

“That tap’s never worked,” Myrtle informs them.

“Harry,” Ron says. “Say something. Something in Parseltongue.” 

Harry thinks hard. The only times he was able to speak Parseltongue was when there was a real, alive snake in front of him. 

“Open up,” he says.

“English,” Ron tells him.

Harry closes his eyes and thinks about the snake Malfoy conjured. 

“Open up,” he says again. Except instead of saying it in English, it comes out as a strange hissing noise. 

Harry hears Ron gasp.

“A pipe,” he mumbles. “I bet the Chamber is at the very bottom.”

“I’m going down there,” Harry immediately says. 

“Me too,” Ron says.

There’s a pause.

“Well, you hardly seem to need me,” Lockhart says. “I’ll just —” 

Harry raises his wand again.

“You can go first,” Ron growls. 

Lockhart walks over slowly. 

“Boys,” he says weakly. “Boys, what good will it do?” 

Harry jabs his wand into Lockhart’s back.

“I really don’t think —” he begins, but Ron steps in front of Harry and pushes him. Harry cracks a smile at the sound of Lockhart screaming as he slides down the pipe before he also lowers himself into the pipe and begins to slide down as well. 

It’s a wet, slimy, and disgusting way down but eventually, he shoots out onto level ground. He considers casting a cleaning charm on himself but he figures this little trip is going to get even messier and decides to wait until they’re back in Myrtle’s bathroom before casting one.

Harry takes a few steps to the side just as Ron comes shooting out of the pipe. 

“We must be miles under the school,” Harry remarks, his voice echoing.

“Under the lake, probably,” Ron says.

There’s, again, a pause.

“Uh, Harry?”

“Oh, shit,” Harry mutters. Ron snickers quietly as Harry adjusts his grip on his wand and says,  _ “Lumos.” _

“C’mon,” Ron links his arm with Harry’s — the one not holding his wand — and begins to walk.

“Remember,” Harry whispers after a moment of walking, “any sign of movement, close your eyes right away.” 

But there are no signs of movement. It seems that nothing inhabits the part of the Chamber they’re currently in. They get startled by a loud crunch, but it turns out to be a rat skull. Harry urgently pulls Ron away from the bones, wanting to get to Ginny as quickly as possible.

“Harry — there’s something up there —” Ron says, freezing. Harry does as well.

Silence.

“Maybe it’s asleep,” Harry says hopefully. “Let’s — c’mon.”

They inch forward very slowly. Harry, despite being blind, isn’t taking any chances and has his eyes closed. It’s not like he needs them open anyway.

“Blimey,” Ron mumbles. “Just the skin.”

There’s a sudden rustle behind them.

“Get up,” Ron says sharply, letting go of Harry to turn to Lockhart.

Lockhart does, but then he lunges forward and practically tackles Ron. Harry is about to shout a spell when Lockhart takes a few steps back, panting. 

“The adventure ends here, boys!” he says triumphantly. “I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body — say goodbye to your memories!” 

_ “Obliviate!” _

There’s a loud explosion and Harry, on instinct, covers his head with his arms and runs. 

When everything falls silent, Harry lowers his arms.

“Ron?” he asks. “Are you okay? Ron!” 

“I’m here!” Ron’s voice is muffled. “I’m okay — this git’s not, though — he got blasted by the wand —” 

Harry hears a thud and an “ow!” and assumes Lockhart just got a kick to some body part.

“W-What’s happened?” Harry says, trying desperately to keep his composure.

“A bunch of rocks fell down,” Ron says. “There’s a wall between us. What now? We can’t get through — it’ll take ages…”

Harry takes a deep breath. There’s another thud and another “ow!” and Harry makes up his mind. 

“Wait there,” he says, his voice shaking. “Wait with Lockhart. I’ll go on… If I’m not back in an hour…” 

There’s a long silence. Harry reaches up and wipes the tears from his eyes harshly. This is no time to cry.

“I’ll try and shift some of this rock,” Ron says, sounding just as choked up as Harry. “So you can — can get back through. And, Harry —” 

“See you in a bit,” Harry says, trying to sound confident. 

He turns and sets off down the tunnel. He directs his magic to his hearing and touch and makes sure to keep his eyes shut.    


The tunnel seems to go on forever but, at last, he bumps into a wall. He takes a few steps back and, assuming this is what he needs to do, says,  _ “Open,”  _ in a low, quiet hiss.

He hears the wall slide open and, shaking from head to toe, he walks inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did ginny walk in on oliver and percy? yes absolutely there is no other option that's it  
> poor gin :'( she doesn't deserve all this. also the teachers being like 'yeah lockhart why don't you go save her' while knowing damn well he isn't going to and then not doing anything to actually go try and save ginny??? kinda fucked up ngl  
> oliver feeling guilty because ginny is prolly dead and his boyfriend is sad :'( harry feeling guilty because ginny is prolly dead and his best friend (boyfriend) is sad :'(   
> ron and harry are dating and the only people who don't know are ron and harry i don't make the rules i just live by them  
> the rocks creating a wall between them and harry not knowing what's going on and both of them CRYING oh my god these boys are going to KILLLL me one day i cannot  
> anyway  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	17. The Heir of Slytherin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tom is an entire warning in of himself  
> he says the m-word a lot :/   
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

Harry walks slowly, eyes clamped shut and his wand held tightly in his hand. 

After he doesn’t hear anything for at least a minute or two, he whisper-shouts, “Ginny? Ginny, can you hear me?”

No response. He quickens his pace slightly. 

“Ginny!” he raises his voice, throwing caution to the wind. “Please tell me you can hear me!”

“She can’t,” a soft voice says, echoing only slightly.

Harry freezes. 

_ “Tom?” _

“It’s good to see you, Harry.”

“W-What d’you mean she can’t? What’s wrong with her? Is she — she’s not —”

“She’s still alive,” Tom tells him. “But only just.”

Harry feels his lip begin to quiver. He swallows, “What have you done to her?”

Tom chuckles, “Smart boy. And here I was, hoping for you to beg me for help…”

“What have you done to her?” Harry repeats through clenched teeth.

“Well, that’s an interesting question,” Tom says, his voice cheery and pleasant. “And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley’s like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger.” 

“The diary,” Harry mumbles.

_ “My _ diary,” Tom says. “Little Ginny’s been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes — how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how — how she didn’t think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her…” 

Harry clenches his fist, beginning to inch around and perhaps find where Ginny’s body is.

“It’s very  _ boring, _ having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl,” Tom continues, either not seeing Harry moving and choosing to ignore it. “But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply  _ loved _ me.  _ No one’s ever understood me like you, Tom… I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in… It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket…” _

Tom laughs. It’s high and cold and such a contrast from his voice that it makes the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stand up.

“If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted… I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of  _ my  _ secrets, to start pouring a little of  _ my _ soul back into  _ her…” _

Harry freezes. Slowly, he says, “What are you talking about, Tom?”

“Haven’t you guessed yet, Harry Potter?” Tom says softly. “Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib’s cat.” 

Harry inhales sharply, “No.”

“Yes,” Tom says. “Of course, she didn’t  _ know _ what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries… far more interesting, they became…  _ Dear Tom,” _ he begins to recite,  _ “I think I’m losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don’t know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can’t remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I’ve got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I’m pale and I’m not myself. I think he suspects me… There was another attack today and I don’t know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I’m going mad… I think I’m the one attacking everyone, Tom!” _

Harry begins moving again, doing his very best to remain calm. 

“It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary,” Tom goes on, apparently still content ignoring Harry moving. “But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that’s where  _ you _ came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn’t have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was  _ you, _ the very person I was most anxious to meet…”

“And why did you want to meet me?” Harry asks, beginning to poke his leg out in hopes of it touching Ginny.

“Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry,” Tom says. “Your whole  _ fascinating _ history. I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust —” 

“Hagrid’s my friend,” Harry interrupts. “And you framed him, didn’t you?” 

Tom laughs his high and cold laugh again. Harry shivers. 

“It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so  _ brave, _ school prefect, model student… on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls… but I admit, even  _ I _ was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought  _ someone _ must realize that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken  _ me _ five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance… as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power! 

“Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed… Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did…”

“Dumbledore’s smart,” Harry says. “I bet he saw right through you. As he should’ve.”

“Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled,” Tom says. “I knew it wouldn’t be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn’t going to waste those long years I’d spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin’s noble work.” 

“Well, you haven’t finished it,” Harry tells him triumphantly. “No one’s died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again —” 

“Haven’t I already told you,” Tom says quietly, “that killing Mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been — _ you.” _

Harry’s foot bumps into something and he drops his wand in surprise. 

“Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who’d been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin’s heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery — particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue… 

“So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became  _ very _ boring. But there isn’t much life left in her… She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last… I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you’d come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter.” 

Harry bends down to pick up his wand and his heart jumps to his throat when he can’t find it.

“Don’t worry about your wand, Harry,” Tom says gently. “You won’t be needing it.”

Harry clenches his fists again.

“So,” Tom’s voice gets closer and Harry falls back in shock, scooting away quickly. “Don’t be so jumpy, Harry,” his voice gets closer again and Harry stays where he’s at this time. “Tell me — how is it that  _ you _ — a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent — managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did  _ you _ escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?” 

Harry swallows, “Why do you care how I escaped? Voldemort was after your time.”

“Voldemort,” Tom says softly, “is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter…”

Harry remains silent as Tom does… something. He’s slowly regaining his courage now that Tom is most likely trying to show him something when he can’t see.

His theory is proven correct over seconds later.

“You see?” he whispers. Harry cracks a smile. “It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father’s name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry — I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!” 

There’s a moment of tense silence, in which Harry pushes himself off the ground and stands up.

Even the knowledge that this isn’t just Tom Riddle in front of him, that it’s Voldemort as a sixteen-year-old, doesn’t stop Harry from being stupid.

“It’s hilarious what lengths you’ll go to just to ignore my blindness,” he says quietly.

“What?” Tom says sharply. “What are you talking about?”

“Whatever you did — whatever affect you wanted it to have on me — didn’t work because I  _ can’t see.” _

Tom is silent for a long moment. Harry stands his ground.

“Of course,” he finally says. “How could I forget? Famous Harry Potter — blind. Well, my job just got so much easier.”

“Did it? Or are you just underestimating me because of my disability?” Harry grins, most likely looking completely mad. “You’ll soon find, Tom Riddle, that you really,  _ really  _ shouldn’t underestimate me.”

But before either of them can do anything to the other, a strange music suddenly echoes through the Chamber. It gets progressively louder and louder until there’s a  _ woosh  _ and the song quiets down. Whatever it is begins moving and Harry hears and feels something drop onto the floor in front of him before the creature lands on his shoulder. It stops singing, its presence next to Harry warm and calming.

“That’s a phoenix…” Tom mumbles.

It clicks.

_ “Fawkes?”  _ Harry breathes. The bird squeezes his shoulder with its claw gently. 

“And that —” Tom says, not realizing that he’s abling Harry by telling him what exactly just happened, “that’s the old school Sorting Hat —” 

Harry furrows his eyebrows. Fawkes obviously came to help him but how will the Sorting Hat help him?

Tom begins to laugh, cutting off Harry’s thought process. He laughs so hard that it rings throughout the Chamber, making it sound as though there’s more than one Tom in front of Harry. 

“This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?” 

Harry decides not to mention how he felt brave before Fawkes showed up. Tom  _ is  _ a murderer, the very same that killed his parents, and he really shouldn’t push his luck.

Tom finally stops laughing.

“To business, Harry,” he says. “Twice — in  _ your _ past, in  _ my _ future — we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. _ How did you survive?  _ Tell me everything. The longer you talk,” he adds, “the longer you stay alive.” 

Harry weighs the outcomes of this fight. Tom has his wand, that much is clear, and Harry has a bird and an old hat. But —  _ but  _ — he had won the fight with Quirrell with only his bare hands. And Quirrell had been there — really, physically there — while Tom is merely just a memory of Voldemort’s sixteen-year-old self. Even without a wand, Harry’s chances of winning are quite high.

“No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me,” he says, deciding to play into Tom’s monologue. Perhaps make him angry enough so he actually starts attacking Harry. “I don’t know myself. But I know why you couldn’t  _ kill _ me. Because my mother died to save me. My common  _ muggleborn _ mother,” he adds. “She stopped you killing me. And the  _ real  _ you — the  _ actual  _ you — you’re a wreck. You’re barely alive. That’s where all your power got you. You’re in hiding. Y-You’re attaching yourself to helpless souls in hopes of remaining alive. It’s  _ pathetic.” _

Tom is silent for a tense moment. 

“So. Your mother died to save you. Yes, that’s a powerful countercharm. I can see now… there is nothing special about you, after all. I wondered, you see. There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must have noticed. Both halfbloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even  _ look _ something alike… but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That’s all I wanted to know.” 

Harry blinks.  _ They look alike?  _ But he doesn’t get a chance to really think about that.

“Now, Harry, I’m going to teach you a little lesson. Let’s match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him…” 

Harry hears Tom walk away and figures that can’t be a good thing, the fact that he can hear a memory walking. Tom stops and then begins speaking, but it’s little more than a hiss, and Harry understands it completely.

_ “Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four.” _

Harry almost laughs at how ridiculous that sounds but when he hears the slithering — _ feels  _ the slithering, thanks to his magic — it suddenly isn’t funny anymore. He keeps his eyes tightly shut, just in case.

He begins backing away. His back hits the wall of the Chamber and Fawkes suddenly leaves his shoulder, taking his warmth and calming presence with him. 

Harry feels and hears the basilisk hit the ground. The next few seconds are the longest of Harry’s life until —

_ “Kill him.” _

The basilisk begins moving toward Harry. He starts running in the opposite direction and isn’t really surprised when he trips and falls. His chin hits the stone and he bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood but that’s really the least of his worries when he can hear the basilisk getting closer and closer.

Suddenly, there’s a loud spitting sound from the basilisk and then something heavy hits Harry hard in the side. He’s slammed against the wall and he waits with bated breath to feel the sinking of fangs into his body — but it never comes. He hears a lot of mad hissing and something thrashing wildly against the Chamber wall and even though he’s established with himself that he doesn’t want to be able to see, he would very much like to be able to see right now.

There’s a sound of something hitting the floor, something that sounds like water being poured onto stone, and then Harry becomes aware of Tom screaming.

_ “NO! LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU! YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM! KILL HIM!” _

Harry very quickly realizes that Fawkes must’ve just blinded the basilisk.

Harry resists the urge to call out for help. Maybe Ron might hear him but what good would that do when Ron is stuck behind a wall of rocks. It would just make him panic and the last thing Harry wants to do is make Ron panic, even if Harry is about to die. He briefly thinks about how unfair the situation is to Ron — his best friend and his sister both about to die in the same place — but something soft hitting his face distracts him.

The Sorting Hat. 

Harry, desperate for literally anything that might help him, rams it onto his head and thinks frantically  _ Help me, please, help me! _

The hat doesn’t answer, but it doesn’t constrict, almost like a hand squeezing Harry’s head. He’s about to pull it off his head, scolding himself for thinking that might work, when something hard and heavy falls onto Harry’s head. Disoriented and seeing stars, he reaches up to the top of the hat to pull it off and feel something behind the fabric.

He pulls it off and shoves his hand inside, pulling out an entire sword from the depths of the hat. 

_ “KILL THE BOY! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU! SNIFF — SMELL HIM!” _

Laughing a little maniacally, Harry stands and holds the sword out in front of him, hoping that when the basilisk lunges that it lands on the sword. He only dodges it twice. The third time, its aim is true and Harry puts his weight behind the sword as it lunges, feeling it sink into the roof of the basilisk’s mouth. He’s only triumphant for a split second. A searing pain in his shoulder stops him from feeling like that for too long, though.

Harry lets go of the sword as the basilisk goes limp. He stumbles into the Chamber wall and slides down to the ground. He grips the fang that pierced his arm and wrenches it out but it's too late. The world is slowly getting quieter and pain is spreading through his body. Harry is sure he’s never felt something so painful.

Distantly, he hears the soft click of claws against the ground.

“Fawkes,” he mumbles. “You were fantastic, Fawkes… you did beautifully…”

He feels the bird lay its head on his arm, right over the wound. He closes his eyes, accepting the fact that he’s going to die all alone down here, both him and Ginny. He desperately wishes he could reassure Ron and tell him it’ll all be okay but he barely has the strength to keep his head upright, let alone to stand up and walk all the way back to Ron.

Harry vaguely hears echoing footsteps.

“You’re dead, Harry Potter,” Tom’s voice says. It's muffled and distant. “Dead. Even Dumbledore’s bird knows it. Do you see what he’s doing, Potter? He’s crying.” 

Harry doesn’t even have the strength to tell Tom that he can’t see what Fawkes is doing. 

“I’m going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.” 

Harry’s head lolls back and hits the wall but between that and the white-hot pain surging through his body, he barely even registers it.

“So ends the famous Harry Potter,” Tom continues, apparently unable to stop monologuing even in the face of his enemies death. “Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You’ll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry… She bought you twelve years of borrowed time… but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must…” 

Of course, Harry knows that. He can fight all he wants but it has to end somewhere and most likely, that somewhere is with his death. 

But… this isn’t dying.

The pain is leaving him and his hearing is returning. Harry shakes his head slightly to clear it and furrows his eyebrows. If he thought getting hit in the head with a sword was disorienting, not dying after accepting his death is even more so. 

“Get away, bird,” Tom’s voice says suddenly, much clearer than before. “Get away from him — I said, get away —” 

There’s a bang like a gun and Fawkes' presence leaves Harry’s side again.

“Phoenix tears…” Tom says quietly. “Of course… healing powers… I forgot…” 

Harry huffs a disbelieving laugh. Magic really is wonderful.

“But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter… you and me…”

But something being dropped into Harry’s lap stops Tom. 

For a moment, Harry and Tom are quiet, but Harry quickly realizes that it’s the diary and, without thinking, he seizes the basilisk fang on the ground next to him and plunges it into the cover of the diary.

There’s a long, piercing scream that Harry feels all the way to his core. He can feel ink beginning to stream over his hands and dripping onto the floor. Tom is still screaming, the sound dreadful and making Harry feel sick to his stomach, and Harry wishes it would stop, wishes it would —

Silence. 

Harry hears a clatter that he assumes is his wand. And besides the steady  _ drip, drip, drip  _ of ink onto the stone, it’s silent. 

Harry has always enjoyed silence and right now, he relishes in it. No taunting monologues, no singing birds, no angry spitting from the basilisk. It’s peaceful. As peaceful as the aftermath of a battle can be and to Harry, that’s very peaceful.

He pushes himself off the floor, shaking from head to toe. Slowly and methodically, he picks up his wand, the Sorting Hat, and then wrenches the sword from the roof of the basilisk’s mouth.

The silence is broken by a low moan at the other end of the Chamber.  _ Ginny. _

Harry rushes over and drops to his knees beside her, “Ginny, oh god, I’m so — I’m so sorry.”

Ginny draws in a great, shuddering breath. Her voice is thick with tears as she begins rambling.

“Harry — oh, Harry — I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c- _ couldn’t _ say it in front of Percy — it was  _ me, _ Harry — but I — I s-swear I d-didn’t mean to — T-Tom made me, he t-took me over — and —  _ how  _ did you kill that — that thing? W-where’s Tom? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary —” 

“It’s all right,” Harry says, showing her the diary. “Tom’s finished. Look! Him and the basilisk. C’mon, Ginny, let’s get out of here —” 

“I’m going to be expelled!” Ginny cries as Harry helps her stand up. “I’ve looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I’ll have to leave and —  _ w-what’ll Mum and Dad say?” _

Harry doesn’t say anything, still kind of in shock to properly comfort Ginny. They leave the Chamber and head down the tunnel and Harry only speaks when he hears the distant shuffle of rocks being shifted around.

“Ron!” he yells, speeding up. “Ginny’s okay! I’ve got her!” 

Harry hears Ron give a cheer. They continue walking until —

_ “Ginny!” _ Ron’s voice cries. “You’re alive! I don’t believe it! What happened? How — what — where did that bird come from?” 

“He’s Dumbledore’s,” Harry says, letting Ron pull him through the gap he made in the rocks. 

“How come you’ve got a  _ sword?” _ Ron says. 

“I’ll explain when we get out of here,” Harry says.

“But —” 

“Later,” Harry says, his voice leaving no room for argument. He really doesn’t think it’s a good idea to tell Ron about what happened when Ginny is  _ right  _ there. 

“Where’s Lockhart?” Harry asks, changing the subject.

“Back there,” Ron says. “He’s in a bad way. Come and see. Er —”

Harry would laugh but the events of before are really starting to catch up with him and the adrenaline is wearing off and he’s suddenly very tired. He supposes almost dying is quite draining on one’s body. 

Fawkes leads them all the back toward the pipe they enter the Chamber from. Harry can hear Lockhart humming to himself when they finally stop.

“His memory’s gone,” Ron tells him. “The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn’t got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He’s a danger to himself.” 

“Hello,” Lockhart says cheerfully. “Odd sort of place, this, isn’t it? Do you live here?” 

“No,” Ron says.

Harry makes a noise in the back of his throat before he changes the subject once more.

“Have you thought how we’re going to get back up the pipe?” Harry asks. 

“No…”

Something, Fawkes most likely, swoops past Harry.

“He looks like he wants you to grab hold…” Ron says, sounding very confused. “But you’re much too heavy for a bird to pull up there —” 

“Fawkes,” Harry mutters, “isn’t an ordinary bird.” He forms a plan quickly. 

“We’ve got to hold on to each other. Ginny, grab Ron’s hand. Professor Lockhart —” 

“He means you,” Ron says to Lockhart.

“You hold Ginny’s other hand —” 

Harry tucks the sword and the Sorting Hat into his belt. Ron reaches out and takes hold of the back of Harry’s robes and Harry takes hold of Fawkes tailfeathers, which are warm to the touch.

A surge of lightness and energy rushes through Harry and then he feels himself being lifted off the ground and carried up the pipe. Before he can even begin to enjoy it, though, it’s over and he finds himself back in Myrtle’s bathroom. As soon as he lets go of Fawkes, exhaustion spreads through his body once more and his shoulders slump down.

“You’re alive,” Myrtle’s voice says blankly.

“There’s no need to sound so disappointed,” Harry mumbles. 

“Oh, well… I’d just been thinking… if you had died, you’d have been welcome to share my toilet,” Myrtle says.

“Harry!” Ron says once they leave the bathroom, sounding a mixture of amused and disgusted. “I think Myrtle’s grown fond of you! You’ve got competition, Ginny!” 

But Ginny seems to be too occupied with what she just went through to be embarrassed. 

“Where now?” Ron says, now sounding anxious. “Oh — this way.”

Ron grabs Harry’s wrist and pulls him along. 

Only moments later, they stop and Ron mumbles, “Professor McGonagall’s office?”

Harry, seeing no other option, reaches up and knocks before pushing the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry realizing tom is the blame within seconds of hearing him speak is so funny. like before he was like 'oh it's hagrid? bet' but now he's immediately like 'what have you done to her' lmao  
> harry being aware that he's playing into tom's evil monologue is SO fucking funny. he just can't help but enable him  
> 'Did it? Or are you just underestimating me because of my disability? You’ll soon find, Tom Riddle, that you really, really shouldn’t underestimate me.' this was THE most badass line i've ever written thank you and goodnight  
> harry already being aware that everything will have to end with his death is like, so fucking sad. like voldemort isn't even fully back yet, the war hasn't started yet, and he already knows that his death ends it all. god this baby doesn't deserve anything he went through  
> harry making sure fawkes knows he was wonderful and then worrying about ron's feelings while he's actively dying is such a harry thing. 'i am currently dying but i hope ron isn't too sad :/'  
> 'harry is sure he's never felt something so painful' he is TWELVE YEARS OLD and the more painful things are yet to come holy shit the trauma this kid has i cannot  
> anyway  
> one more chapter and then we move onto prisoner of azkaban >:) i'm so excited  
> scowl count next chapter lmao you don't wanna miss it  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


	18. Dobby's Reward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we've made it folks. the last chapter. i hope you enjoy it.
> 
> also I need a love interest for george! I’m thinking of just going with angelina but there are other options so let me know if you have an idea!
> 
> i hint at harry's past abuse once
> 
> if i need to put any other trigger warnings please tell me!!! and also please tell me if something i've said is offensive because i don't want to be that person! thank you and i love you!

For a moment, there’s silence. And then someone screams.

_ “Ginny!” _

If Harry’s mind serves him correctly, that’s Mrs. Weasley. Fawkes swoops past Harry’s ear and he flinches just as he’s pulled into a tight embrace by Mrs. Weasley.

“You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?” 

“I think we’d all like to know that,” Professor McGonagall says weakly. 

Mrs. Weasley lets go of Harry. Harry, still absolutely exhausted, walks across the room to Professor McGonagall’s desk. He places the Sorting Hat, the sword, and what remains of Tom’s diary. His wand finds his hand and he grips it tightly and then begins telling them everything.

For nearly twenty-five minutes, he speaks into the silence. He tells them about the disembodied voice, how Hermione had realized it was a basilisk in the pipes that he had been hearing; how he and Ron had followed the spiders into the forest and that Aragog had told them where the last victim of the basilisk had died; how he had guessed that it must’ve been Myrtle who died and that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets must be in her bathroom…

“Very well,” Professor McGonagall says when he pauses, “so you found out where the entrance was — breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add — but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?” 

Harry sighs quietly and shuts his eyes, though he continues to talk. He tells them about Fawkes’ arrival with the Sorting Hat and how the Sorting Hat gave him the sword. Here, he falters. He had so far avoided mentioning the diary or Ginny but it’s imperative to how he managed to survive the battle. He’s just about to try and explain the diary without bringing Ginny into it when a voice speaks up. Dumbledore.  _ So, he’s back? _

“What interests me most,” he says gently, “is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania.” 

Harry frowns.  _ If your sources tell you he’s in Albania, why don’t you go to Albania and get rid of him? _

Apparently, nobody else seems to care about this. 

“W-what’s that?” Mr. Weasley says, sounding stunned.  _ “You-Know-Who? _ En-enchant  _ Ginny?  _ But Ginny’s not… Ginny hasn’t been… has she?” 

“It was this diary,” Harry says, deciding not to worry about the Voldemort thing for the time being. He picks it up off the desk and holds it out. “Tom — Riddle, he wrote it when he was sixteen.”

Dumbledore takes it from Harry.

“Brilliant,” he says softly. “Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen.” 

Harry reaches up and rubs his eyes, out of both exasperation and tiredness. Of course he was a brilliant student but there are certainly more important things than that, like the fact that he  _ murdered Harry’s parents.  _

“Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school… traveled far and wide… sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here.” 

“But, Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley says. “What’s our Ginny got to do with — with —  _ him?” _

“His d-diary!” Ginny sobs. “I’ve b-been writing in it, and he’s been w-writing back all year —” 

_ “Ginny!” _ Mr. Weasley says, shocked. “Haven’t I taught you _ anything? _ What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself  _ if you can’t see where it keeps its brain. _ Why didn’t you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was  _ clearly _ full of Dark Magic —” 

“I d-didn’t know,” Ginny cries. “I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it —” 

“Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away,” Dumbledore suddenly interrupts, his voice firm. “This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort.” The door of Professor McGonagall’s office is opened. “Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up,” he adds. “You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She’s just giving out Mandrake juice — I daresay the basilisk’s victims will be waking up any moment.” 

“So Hermione’s okay!” Ron says.

“There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny,” Dumbledore tells her. 

Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley leave the office.

“You know, Minerva,” Dumbledore says. “I think all this merits a good _ feast. _ Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?” 

“Right,” Professor McGonagall says. “I’ll leave you to deal with Potter and Weasley, shall I?” 

“Certainly.”

Harry hides a yawn behind his hand. He’s way too tired to be worrying about being expelled.

“I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules,” Dumbledore says. 

Harry sighs quietly. 

“Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words,” he continues. “You will both receive Special Awards for Services to the School and — let me see — yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor.” 

Harry wakes up slightly, shocked.

“But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure,” Dumbledore adds. “Why so modest, Gilderoy?” 

Harry blinks. He had forgotten about Lockhart.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Ron quickly says, “there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart —” 

“Am I a professor?” Lockhart says, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?” 

“He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired,” Ron says quietly. 

“Dear me,” Dumbledore says. “Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!” 

“Sword?” Lockhart sats. “Haven’t got a sword. That boy has, though. He’ll lend you one.” 

“Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary, too?” Dumbledore says to Ron. “I’d like a few more words with Harry…”

Harry stays where he’s at, his eyelids feeling heavy, and gives a start when Dumbledore tells him to sit down. He does, though with how comfy the chair is, it doesn’t seem like the best idea.

“First of all, Harry, I want to thank you,” Dumbledore says. “You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you.” 

Harry blinks slowly. He absolutely  _ didn’t  _ show real loyalty to Dumbledore down in the Chamber. Fawkes gives a little trill. Harry decides to not think about it too much.

“And so you met Tom Riddle,” Dumbledore says, sounding thoughtful. “I imagine he was most interested in you…” 

Harry nods, “He was. He said we’re alike.”

“Did he, now?” Dumbledore says. “And what do you think, Harry?” 

“Well, I’m not,” Harry shrugs. “I mean, I’m a Gryffindor and — well, I don’t particularly want to murder people.”

Dumbledore gives a quiet laugh, “I certainly hope not.”

Harry falls silent until a question appears in his mind. He’s not sure if Dumbledore will give him a straight answer but it won’t hurt to ask.

“Professor, why is it that I can speak to snakes?” he asks. “I certainly don’t have any relation to Slytherin.”

“You can speak Parseltongue, Harry,” Dumbeldore says, “because Lord Voldemort — who is the last remaining descendant of Salazar Slytherin — can speak Parseltongue. Unless I’m much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I’m sure…” 

“Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?” Harry says, both shocked and disgusted. He’s living with a piece of his parents’ murderer inside of him!

“It certainly seems so.” 

Harry slumps back, frowning. 

“Then — that’s why the Sorting Hat wanted me to be in Slytherin,” Harry says. “I’ve got a piece of Voldemort inside of me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Dumbledore says. “You certainly possess all the qualities that Salazar Slytherin wanted in his students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue — resourcefulness — determination — a certain disregard for rules,” he adds. “Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think.” 

“Well, because I asked,” Harry says. “But there’s still a piece of Voldemort inside of me! You don’t think — could my entire… being be affected by it? My personality…”

“Well, I presume we’ll never know the answer to that, my boy,” Dumbledore says. Harry flinches at the word. “As the piece has been there almost your entire life, there’s no telling if you would be different without it.”

“But it won’t be there forever, will it?” Harry says, suddenly panicking. “There’s some way to get it out, right?”

“I do not yet know,” Dumbledore says.

Harry can’t help but think that Dumbledore is lying to him.

“I think that you, Harry, need some food and sleep. I suggest you go down to the feast, while I write to Azkaban — we need our gamekeeper back. And I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too,” he adds. “We’ll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher… Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don’t we?”

Harry, unsatisfied with the talk, stands and goes to leave, but that’s when the door slams open. 

“Good evening, Lucius,” Dumbledore says politely.

Mr. Malfoy storms inside the room and Harry jumps out of the way so he isn’t knocked to the ground.

“So!” Mr. Malfoy says, obviously furious. “You’ve come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts.” 

“Well, you see, Lucius,” Dumbledore says, “the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They’d heard that Arthur Weasley’s daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too… Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn’t agree to suspend me in the first place.” 

“So — have you stopped the attacks yet?” Mr. Malfoy says. “Have you caught the culprit?” 

“We have,” Dumbledore says.

“Well?” Mr. Malfoy says sharply. “Who is it?” 

“The same person as last time, Lucius,” Dumbledore says. “But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary.” 

“I see…” Mr. Malfoy says slowly. 

“A clever plan,” Dumbledore says. “Because if Harry here and his friend Ron hadn’t discovered this book, why — Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn’t acted of her own free will…”

Mr. Malfoy says nothing.

“And imagine,” Dumbledore goes on, “what might have happened then… The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pureblood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing muggleborns… Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle’s memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise…”

“Very fortunate,” Mr. Malfoy says stiffly.

Harry thinks back to how Ginny might’ve gotten the diary in the first place. Harry is sure that the only time Ginny could’ve possibly acquired it in Flourish and Blotts. Which… 

“Don’t you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr. Malfoy?” Harry says, hoping his hypothesis is correct.

“How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?” he says.

“Because you gave it to her,” Harry says. “In Flourish and Blotts. You picked one of her books and slipped the diary inside it, didn’t you?” 

“And how would you have even  _ seen  _ that, Mr.  _ Potter?” _

Harry thinks it’s almost hilarious how much Malfoy and his dad are alike.

“Well, I didn’t have to  _ see  _ it,” Harry says. “You picked up one of her books and made fun of how much money Mr. Weasley makes. I’m just… filling in the gaps.”

_ “Prove it.” _

“Oh, no one will be able to do that,” Dumbledore says. “Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you…”

Mr. Malfoy is silent for a long moment before he clears his throat, “We’re going, Dobby!” 

_ Dobby?  _ Harry stands, thinking hard and listening to Dobby squealing in pain all down the corridor, and then it hits him.

“Professor Dumbledore,” he says quickly. “Can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?” 

“Certainly, Harry,” Dumbledore says. “But hurry. The feast, remember…”

Harry grabs the diary and quickly leaves the office, following Dobby’s squeals of pain. He hurriedly takes his shoe off and then pulls his slimy, filthy sock off and shoves the diary inside of it. 

“Mr. Malfoy,” he gasps once he’s finally caught up with them, “I’ve got something for you —” 

And he shoves the diary into Mr. Malfoy’s hands.

“What the — ?” Mr. Malfoy sounds rightfully furious. “You’ll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter,” he says quietly. “They were meddlesome fools, too. Come, Dobby. I said,  _ come.” _

“Master has given a sock,” Dobby says quietly. Harry feels a wave of relief crash over him. He hadn’t been sure if that would actually work. “Master gave it to Dobby.” 

“What’s that?” Mr. Malfoy spits. “What did you say?” 

“Got a sock,” Dobby says in disbelief. “Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby — Dobby is free.” 

There’s a tense beat of silence.

“You’ve lost me my servant, boy!” 

“You shall not harm Harry Potter!” Dobby shouts. 

There’s a loud bang and Harry hears Mr. Malfoy go flying. 

“You shall go now,” Dobby says fiercely. “You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now.” 

Harry hears Mr. Malfoy stomp off.

“Harry Potter freed Dobby!” Dobby says shrilly. “Harry Potter set Dobby free!” 

“Least I could do, Dobby,” Harry says, only slightly miffed about his newfound fondness for the elf. “Just promise never to try and save my life again.” 

Dobby gives a giddy little laugh that makes Harry laugh quietly.

“I’ve just got one question, Dobby,” Harry says. “You told me all this had nothing to do with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, remember? Well —” 

“It was a clue, sir,” Dobby says. “Was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?” 

“Right,” Harry says. “Well, I’d better go. There’s a feast, and my friend Hermione should be awake by now…”

Dobby suddenly throws his arms around Harry’s middle.

“Harry Potter is greater by far than Dobby knew!” he sobs. Harry pats his back awkwardly. “Farewell, Harry Potter!”

And with a loud crack, he’s gone. 

  
  


Harry, despite just wanting to go to sleep, has a good time at the feast. It lasts all night and he’s completely and utterly exhausted by the end of it, but he’s happier than he has been in a while. He doesn’t know what the best part was, Hermione running toward him and screaming “You solved it! You solved it!” or Justin apologizing for ever suspecting him, or Hagrid showing up at half past three, or his and Ron’s four hundred points securing the House Cup for Gryffindor, this time completely fairly, or Dumbledore announcing that, unfortunately, Professor Lockhart would be unable to return next year. 

“Shame,” Ron says. “He was starting to grow on me.” 

Professor McGonagall’s news about exams being cancelled is both good and bad news, in Harry’s opinion. Of course, he’s happy to not have to do exams, but for the older students who  _ needed  _ those exams, it’s slightly unfair. 

The rest of the term passes by too quickly for Harry’s liking. Hogwarts is back to normal, with only a few exceptions. DADA classes are cancelled because they don’t have a teacher and Lucius Malfoy is no longer a school governor. Draco is quite irked by this, rightfully so, but his father got what he deserved, in Harry’s — and a lot of other people’s — opinion. 

On the other hand, Ginny is back to her somewhat normal self. Of course, she probably won’t ever be the exact same as before, it  _ was  _ an extremely traumatizing thing she went through, but she’s doing better. 

All too soon, it’s time for them to get on the Hogwarts Express and go home. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny manage to get a compartment all to themselves. 

They make the most of the last few hours they’re allowed to do magic. They play Exploding Snap, set off the last of Fred and George’s Filibuster fireworks, and practice disarming each other by magic. Harry is getting pretty good at it. 

They’re almost at King’s Cross when Harry remembers something.

“Ginny — what did you see Percy doing, that he didn’t want you to tell anyone?”

“Oh, that,” Ginny says, giggling. “Well — Percy’s got a boyfriend.” 

Harry blinks.

_ “What?”  _ George and Fred both say in absolute disbelief.

“And guess what?” Ginny says, sounding all too smug about having this information. “That’s who he was writing to all last summer. He’s been meeting him all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day.”

_ “Who?”  _ Ron says.

_ “Oliver Wood.” _

Harry’s jaw drops. He thinks back to Oliver’s hesitance before saying that Percy is his best friend and gets even more shocked. 

“You’re  _ joking,”  _ George breathes. “Wood? Holy shit, that makes so much sense.”

“I thought they were just friends,” Harry mumbles.

George snorts as if he knew all along, “Yeah and Fred and Lee are  _ just friends.” _

“Hey!” Fred immediately gets defensive. “We went to Hogsmeade  _ once!” _

“Young love,” George says. “Back when I was your age —”

“You are four minutes older than me, you absolute twat —”

The train begins to slow and Harry pulls out a quill and a bit of parchment, tuning out Fred and George’s bickering (with Ginny is the background saying things like “Respect your elders, Frederick!” and “What’s it like being  _ so  _ old, Georgie?”). 

“This is called a telephone number,” he tells Ron, writing it twice and ripping it in half, handing one piece to both of them. “I told your dad how to use a telephone last summer — he’ll know. Call me at the Dursleys’, okay? I can’t stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to…”

“Your aunt and uncle will be proud, though, won’t they?” Hermione says as they get off the train and join the line leading out of the barrier. “When they hear what you did this year?”

“Proud?” Harry scoffs. “Are you crazy? All those times I could’ve died, and I didn’t manage it? They’ll be furious…”

And with Hermione on his left and Ron on his right, they walk into the Muggle world together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harry being like 'bitch if you know he's in albania, go kill him??' is comedy gold  
> 'yes he was brilliant but he also murdered my parents' period harry you tell him  
> fawkes just helping harry because he's a good bird is so funny. 'you must've shown real loyalty to me' naw dawg fawkes just knew you were gonna let harry die if he didn't do anything  
> 'well, i don't particularly want to murder people' this being one of the two (2) reasons that harry can think of as to why he and tom aren't alike is SO funny. like there are so many reasons he could've said but he went with not wanting to kill people. what a king  
> harry being genuinely terrified of the piece of voldemort inside of him and asking if there's a way to get it out and dumbles just being like 'uh idk fam' is both sad and funny. like dumbles knows harry has to die but him just going 'here's the thing' is such a dumbledore thing to do i hate him so much  
> the ad in the daily prophet!!!! remus!!!!! i'm so fucking excited!!!!!!!!  
> how is lucius gonna be a death eater but also can't lie to save his life. find a new occupation honey the one you're in isn't the move  
> 'i'm just... filling in the gaps' harry is so fucking iconic and he doesn't even realize it  
> remember folks, my headcanon is that sexuality doesn't matter to purebloods (and some halfbloods) so ginny did not out percy because percy was already out. she just snitched on his relationship.  
> george being older than fred gives me life. ginny telling fred to respect his elders. i love them.  
> there they go :') off to third year we go
> 
> and there you have it folks. but, one more thing  
> the total scowl count made it up to an astounding 24. spectacular.
> 
> and that's the end. up next: sirius black makes a dramatic entrance for an entire book (ft. remus lupin, who is so fucking in love with sirius "only one will die tonight" black that he forgets twelve years of hatred and bitterness the second he gets one piece of evidence. gotta love that guy)  
> i'm so excited for third year, mainly because it means we're even closer to fourth year, but also because it's sirius time! and i can finally put some use to my headcanon that harry is afraid of dogs. this poor baby is about to get his shit ROCKED next year. also crookshanks is the potter's old cat and i don't care what you say because i'm the author and i make the rules and live by them. thank you and goodnight.  
> comments and kudos give me life  
> i hope you all have a good day/night! <3


End file.
